Rematch
by Dalara
Summary: After being killed by Darth Vader ObiWan Kenobi gets a chance to change the past. But at what price?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Rematch

**Timeframe:** Starts in the middle of ANH, then goes back to the time of TPM.

**Characters:** Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, original characters, minor appearances of others.

**Summary:** AU, of course. After being killed by Darth Vader Obi-Wan Kenobi gets a chance to change the past. But at what price?

**Disclaimer:** The Star Wars galaxy is property of the almighty GL.

While we live according to race, colour or creed  
While we rule by blind madness and pure greed  
Our lives dictated by tradition, superstition, false religion  
Through the eons, and on and on  
Oh yes we'll keep on tryin'  
We'll tread that fine line  
Oh we'll keep on tryin'  
Till the end of time

_~ Queen "Innuendo" _

He stood straight, unwavering, looking at the dark nemesis in front of him with steady gaze of clear blue-green eyes. His doom in the form of a black warrior – Darth Vader – towered over him, giving off waves of hatred and… remorse? No, he must be mistaken. The old man's teary from exertion eyes sought the soul behind the dreadful exterior, his senses searched for the light that once shone so brightly. But tired eyes saw only the black breathing mask, devoid of any expression, incapable of transferring feelings even if they were there. And the old man's senses only found darkness where promise had once been. He could feel no hope left in this shell of a human being.

There was no hope for mercy. But mercy he did not need – nor did he want.

His life had come to its end, here and now.

Here and now…

A small unnoticeable smile of remembrance quirked his lips.

/You will die, Obi-Wan./ The old training bond flared to life for the last time.

At least Vader was giving him the right to die in battle – if this could be called a battle. _The last gift of the loving apprentice?_ Sarcasm never left him, not even here, on the brink of death – or rather passing into the Force as was Jedi's belief. But they both knew there could be no capturing the old knight. There was only death waiting for him, unless a miracle happened. But he was too tired now, body and soul, to believe in miracles. It pained him that the one to bring death to him would be Vader – Anakin, the once – and still – beloved apprentice with whom he never found understanding.

_Anakin, Anakin. You were so talented, you still are. Why didn't you learn when I taught you? Why did you choose the worst side of yourself? Why…_

But there were too many whys – unanswered, hanging in the eternity he was about to join. 

Obi-Wan turned to where he sensed Luke's excited presence that was rapidly imbuing with painful shock. The boy was strong in the Force, he already knew what the outcome of this battle would be – intuitively, no more – but he knew nevertheless and didn't want to believe it. Obi-Wan could sense the struggle inside him, could hear his unvoiced denial. 

Too bad he had to leave the boy alone. 

Alone? 

No. He did not pick that arrogant yet kind in the heart smuggler and the Wookie for nothing. They were the right choice; they would take care of his charge until he found the way to contact Luke – if he ever found it. 

All the thoughts took mere moments to run through his head, fast as light. Obi-Wan turned back to his angel of doom, his black angel of death, how fitting. He would die, but the wheels of the giant machine of causes and effects had already come into motion. His reflection, caught in the shining black of Vader's helmet, smiled back at him.

_My poor, poor Ani…_

Crimson deadly lightning rushed to him, unstoppable. Force screamed its warning – the warning he did not need. He held his lightsaber steadfastly in a salute. Time slowed to a snail's pace. It dragged by millisecond after millisecond. He waited, waited for the end – or would it be the beginning? 

Abruptly time dashed forward again. Blazing bar of pure energy reached him. He fought the urge to close his eyes. White-hot searing pain enveloped him in an agonizing embrace. The Force that was flowing around him seconds before now rushed to flood him, to sooth him with calming waves. Like an ocean… Like calm blue waters of an Alderaani ocean…

Darkness clouded his vision for what seemed infinity. Time was of no essence.

Pain abode slowly until there was no pain at all – as there were no feelings. He sighed with relief. It was over. Everything was over now. Darkness slowly dissolved into something else. He still could not see anything but there were colours, he knew. They were burning with brilliancy, but he didn't know what to name them – they were unlike anything he had ever seen before.

"Greetings, Obi-Wan Kenobi," an unexpected voice called from behind. Obi-Wan turned sharply. "We were waiting for you."

Speaking was a man clad in black cloak falling down his body in soft folds. His raven-black hair barely reached the shoulder, framing the pale but attractive face. Startlingly light bluish-grey eyes watched the now-dead Jedi with something akin to interest. Fine features were lit by a light smile on thin lips. There was only one thing Obi-Wan could tell for sure – he had never seen this man before.

"Greetings. Would you mind introducing yourself since you seem to already know my name?"

"Of course. I am Tarius."

Obi-Wan inclined his head politely more out of habit for he could not feel his body – and had strong doubt he still had one.

"I'm here to offer you a deal," Tarius continued, lowering himself onto a chair he pulled goodness knows where from. 

"What kind of deal would that be exactly?" 

"Oh, it's pretty simple." Tarius folded his fingers together and leaned forward like a school-teacher about to explain new lesson. "If we reach an agreement here I get you back through space and time to where all of it started, put you back into your own body, leaving all your memories to you, and you're free to act as you deem fit."

Obi-Wan watched the man, incredulous. _Could it be a gift from the Force? Could it really be that simple? I, with all my experience back then when I still can correct all the mistakes I've made! I could prevent the rise of the Empire, the fall of the Republic and of the Jedi Order. I might even be able to save Qui-Gon…_

The prospect was incredible, shining with Light and unspoken possibilities. And still he hesitated.

 _But which part of my happiness about it is a noble wish to make everything better and which is the egoistical desire to correct my own mistakes? Who can tell? Like with Luke. Was I only following the Force's will, or was it also my chance to correct mistakes made years ago? Could it be that in my attempts to right the wrongs I fail again?_

Life had taught him a lesson the hard way, and he had learned it well. But had Tarius said 'agreement'?

"What are the terms?"

"Needless to say, appropriate price is implied."

"Which is?…"

"Say… you grovel at my feet."

Obi-Wan fought to keep his face straight but knew he was losing it. It would be against all of his beliefs, it would be against himself… 

"Just kidding," Tarius laughed before Obi-Wan could get any further with his revulsion, though his frighteningly light eyes were still serious, never lighted with mirth. "Still proud, aren't you?"

"What is the real price?" He suddenly found the urge to punch the man's slimy face hardly resistible.

"Pain." Tarius started to polish his fingers as though it was his first and foremost concern. "You didn't expect to get everything for free, now did you? Still, you have a choice here. It is either you bear the pain… or those around you."

"I choose myself."

"Not so fast," Tarius laughed again, eyes sparkling. "The choice should be made on the spot in due time. But I take it you agree to try."

Obi-Wan smiled. "As someone I know says: 'Do or do not. There's no try.' So I will _do_ ."

"Think as you wish." Tarius stood up from his chair. His face had lost some of its friendliness, Obi-Wan noted. "Enough of this idle talk."

He waved his hand slightly, slim, aristocratic fingers brushing the Force as though it were a huge dog, urging it to bend to his will. The Force arched with an inaudible moan, splashing colours around the two people who were no people at all. Colours twinkled and pooled in patches of matter, stretching, growing, merging to form a solid if slightly rippled picture around the two. One look at the scene was enough for Obi-Wan's breath to catch in his throat, and his heart to start racing.

"Generator Core Room in Theed," he whispered, unable to make his voice any louder. It had been so long since the last time he visited Naboo… since the last time he had been here.

Tarius frowned, "Something's missing. Ah, yes."

Another wave of his hand, this time a powerful swipe, and three figures came into existence. Obi-Wan gasped.

They all looked like statues frozen in motion in awkward poses. The Dark Lord of the Sith, frightening in his raw, innate power, wielding the two-bladed lightsaber, radiated hatred, fanatical obsession. Dark waves of Force tainted with anger rolled off of him in surges, visible from where Obi-Wan now stood. 

A young Jedi trapped hopelessly behind a wall of red energy, free to watch, powerless to intervene. Himself. Obi-Wan took a moment to scrutinize the once-his-own visage more to gather his runaway thoughts than to really look at the face he had seen billions of times in mirrors. An odd feeling settled at the pit of his stomach.

He then turned to the third occupant of the room, turned with trepidation, slowly, almost reluctantly. Qui-Gon. 

Obi-Wan's heart missed a bit, aching with a surge of old pain. Here he was, alive if motionless. The picture of dignity, the visage of his Master who never was perfect but was no less loved for that. Even stopped in mid-air, caught in a flash of the moment he still possessed the grace of a lion. He too radiated power, natural power, but it was not tainted by darkness. Unable to hold himself Obi-Wan made a step towards him, forgetting about Tarius who was watching with lazy curiosity. With aching gentleness he brushed long flowing hair, traced the familiar jawline.

"Oh, Master," the broken whisper filled the dead-silent room with hushed echo. "Why did you…"

"Enough!" Tarius suddenly barked, startling Obi-Wan. 

Suppressing a surge of anger the Jedi turned to him. "All right. What should I do?"

"You?" He thought he saw a sneer on the man's face. "Fight, my dear Jedi. Fight."


	2. Chapter 2

Big thanks to all you people who reviewed. I am really glad you enjoy this story. I must say that the first several chapters are already written, so they will come in quick succession. The following ones however will take much more time to come. This said now back to the story.

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"But what exactly should I do?"

Tarius folded his arms across his chest and looked at Obi-Wan like adults look at a silly child asking the obvious. "Listen to yourself and you'll know what to do."

Shooting him a dubious look Obi-Wan closed his eyes and listened the way he had listened to the Force when he had been a small child finding solitude and serenity in great gardens of the Jedi Temple. Temple Gardens… He had seen what Darkness had done to them, he had seen them turned into ashes, and it was one of those many terrible sights forever imprinted into his soul. Bitterness wove its acrid band into his thoughts, but he firmly pushed it away. The Temple was still standing, he told himself – and he now had a chance to keep it that way. 

Knowledge came into his mind effortlessly as though it had been there from the very beginning – if not from the beginning of his life then at least from the beginning of his journey into the Force. He opened his eyes, sweeping the scene before him for the last time from this vantage point of no time, and stepped straight into the body that had once been his. A surge of something beyond recognition flared inside him, not quite painful but the feeling on the verge of it. Time, space and Force swirled around him in a wild dance of nameless colours, obscuring the two opponents on the other side of the ruby haze.

He blinked… and the scene came into motion. Loud hum of generator and clashing of two lightsabers behind the red curtain cascaded into his ears. Tarius was nowhere to be seen, but he was not Obi-Wan's concern right now. The Jedi's eyes travelled to the two combatants in the round room and never left them.

What to do?

He was trapped behind the energy wall – again. The sense of familiarity crashed into him, almost making him scream out of helplessness. He had to get through the red crackling wall. How?

And knowledge surged into him again. So easy! He sought the strength of his second self, the younger one. Entwined it with his own strength. Double power was almost agonizing in its intensity nearly tearing the body that was not used to such might. Gritting his teeth in incredible concentration Obi-Wan gathered the Force around himself, wrapped it like a cocoon and stepped through the laser wall. 

Burning sensation spread throughout his body, eating him alive. It felt like walking through a red-hot durasteel wall, but he pushed forward with grim determination, knowing that if he stopped he would die. He could not lose. He would not! He closed his eyes in an attempt to spare them, but the blazing heat easily penetrated the weak protection of human eyelids. And still he moved onward.

 _It feels like midday on Tatooine, Obi-Wan thought wryly, never stopping the agonizingly slow movement. _

Suddenly the heat ended, and he allowed himself one deep cleansing breath. Air felt crisp and slightly stinging to the abused lungs – and incredibly, impossibly sweet. But the moment ended and so did his rest. Opening his eyes Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber – and stepped into the fight. Once again he was to fight the Sith but this time he was more than willing to kill him, unlike Vader…

Out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan caught Qui-Gon's surprised glance but let it pass for now, concentrating on the forgotten easiness of moves, letting the Force flow though him, guiding him through the intricate pattern of fight. 

Swing. Block. Slash. Parry.

Vader's face – mask, he corrected himself – stood before Obi-Wan's eyes. He could not let Vader be, he could not let Qui-Gon die. The young and strong body was moving almost automatically leaping, twisting, wielding lightsaber with grace he regretted losing as an old man. 

But as the battle raged on his thoughts took a path of their own. Over the years he had replayed this fight numerous times, trying to imagine how it could be different. Yoda was always reproachful of this habit, but Obi-Wan could no more stop himself from thinking than he was able to stop stars from shining. He now remembered how he wished to be in his Master's place – to die in his stead. Those thoughts never left him up to his own death. How would everything be if he were to die here and not Qui-Gon?

It seemed now he had a chance to see. 

Qui-Gon was visibly tired. Abruptly Obi-Wan recollected that the other Jedi was not a young man, far from that, though he looked much better than Obi-Wan at the same age. Without a thought Kenobi shared his own energy with the Master, receiving a faint disapproval and gratitude through the training bond they shared. He smiled briefly at Qui-Gon over the Sith's crimson blade.

The foremost thought returned: he needed to save Qui-Gon. At any cost. Protect him with his own life if need be. But it was dubious even together they would be able to defeat this brood of Darkness. He spared a glance at the maw of the seemingly bottomless pit gaping open behind Maul. Jump at him? Kick him down? 

And fall into the melting pit with him?

At any other time he would have been able to Force-push the Sith. But not now. He was drained, on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. Walking though the laser wall had taken more than he could imagine out of him. 

Jump at him now? Easy solution. One move, and everything would be over. 

 _"Pain."_ Obi-Wan remembered Tarius saying. _"…It is either you bear the pain… or those around you."_

If he were to die who would bear the pain? As though to answer his unspoken question Qui-Gon grunted under the pressure of Maul's rapid attack. 

The easiest way was the easiest only for Obi-Wan himself.

"No, Tarius," Kenobi mumbled quietly. "I choose pain not for others."

Reaching deep into the very core of his being, gathering every bit of strength he possessed up to the last ounce, he somersaulted over unsuspecting Maul, cutting the double-bladed lightsaber in two. The enraged Sith threw the useless part off and gripped the remaining stump tighter. Obi-Wan doubled the speed of attack, using all the techniques he had learned during his life – the long life of an old Jedi Master. Somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness he caught Qui-Gon's surprise, but now was not the time for pretending or explanations. He drove the Sith forward viciously, mercilessly. 

Maul relented, taking a few steps back, stunned. But his bafflement was short-lived, and he threw out a hand sending a tidal wave of dark Force at Obi-Wan. The Jedi stumbled, losing his concentration and nearly losing his waning strength as well. Scarlet blade swished past him, charring his tunic. Giving him time to recover Qui-Gon rushed to attack the Sith. 

Acting in perfect tandem the two Jedi battled Maul, driving him steadily to the edge of the round pit. Avoiding a skillfully executed lock the Dark Lord brought his 'saber around, grazing Obi-Wan's arm. Kenobi hissed in pain and drew back instinctively. Qui-Gon quickly covered the forming opening to shield his lingering apprentice. 

Two blades – blue and green – pierced Maul's abdomen at once. Three figures froze again for a split second. The Sith's yellow eyes, full of hatred, widened slightly, a bewildered expression appearing on his face. Simultaneously both Jedi jerked their blades free, and the dark warrior fell back into the melting pit soundlessly. 

Strength left Obi-Wan all of a sudden, and he nearly followed Maul down the shaft. Qui-Gon's hand gripped his shoulder, stopping his fall.

"Obi-Wan?" 

The concerned voice was like music to Kenobi's ears. He felt hot tears spring to his eyes. It had been so many years…

 _Obi-Wan Kenobi… Obi-Wan… Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time,_ Obi-Wan remembered himself telling Luke. Thirty two years… They did not exist now – they existed only in his memory.

"Obi-Wan?"

"I'm fine… Master." He sank to the floor bonelessly as his legs refused to support him. 

Qui-Gon lowered himself onto the floor next to Obi-Wan and smiled, "We did it."

"Yes, indeed. He is dead and you… you're alive."

"Of course, I am alive. Why wouldn't I? Or did you see one of your so-called visions again, my young Padawan?"

Obi-Wan jerked at the 'young Padawan'. Involuntarily his hand strayed to the plaited piece of hair behind his right ear and grasped the slightly singed braid tightly. Thirty two years would never come again.

"Obi-Wan? Are you still here?"

"Yes… Perhaps I really saw a dream. A very peculiar dream. And I'm glad it will never come true."

"Obi-Wan, you pay too much attention to things you should not concentrate on. Come on, let's go find out what of the others. I suppose the Queen has already taken care of Viceroy. Can you stand?"

Obi-Wan nodded and stood up – not without Qui-Gon's help. 

"We need to show you to the medics," the Master said, looking his counterpart over.

Obi-Wan made a frightened face, and both Jedi laughed. Opening a small auxiliary door Qui-Gon had to stoop in order to fit through it. Obi-Wan paused casting the last glance at the Generator Core room, then followed Qui-Gon. 

 _Master, I could tell you what happened to others right now, but you would not believe me, would you? I could tell you of Anakin blasting the droid control station, of Gungans, of Padme… the queen. But you would only think I have hit my head harder than you assumed._

"Obi-Wan."

"Master?"

"Those techniques you performed during the battle. Where did you learn them? I'm sure I have never taught you those."

 _Of course, you haven't!_ "Ah, well, I guess I've seen them somewhere. At the Archives, perhaps."

Qui-Gon arched a graceful eyebrow at him. Obi-Wan pretended to not notice and the Master conceded for the time being. The narrow corridor was not the best place to talk, after all. They proceeded in silence. Qui-Gon was apparently worried about the battles going on outside these walls. Obi-Wan, on contrary, was concerned about only one thing – what the promised pain implied.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone for the reviews. I really appreciate them. 

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Numbness spread all over Obi-Wan's body, drowning out the pain, and he gladly welcomed this doubtful respite from constant agony that had been nagging at his abused body ever since they'd left the Generator Core Room. Sharp biting pain ate into the skin and muscles, penetrating, it seemed, every bone. Black fuzzy dots danced at the edges of his vision, but he kept walking by the virtue of the sheer will power, supporting himself with the Force as much as he could. But his connection to the great energy was erratic at best, wavering and faltering precariously each time his concentration slipped a tad. 

Qui-Gon who was walking in front of him would stop occasionally and ask, "Are you all right, Little One? Maybe we should stop and take a rest?"

And Obi-Wan would shake his head each time, declining the tempting offer, although his battered body pleaded for rest. He would have gladly accepted but knew that once he stopped there would be no strength left in him to continue. 

They went on and on for what seemed like hours, making occasional short pauses for Obi-Wan to catch his breath. In any other place Qui-Gon would have simply scooped him up into his strong arms and carried all the way to the nearest medic facility, but it was not an option here. The narrow corridor was barely large enough for the towering Master to fit in, and the ceiling was so low it could provoke a fit of claustrophobia in a sensitive person. 

Neither Jedi was claustrophobic – or it would have posed great many problems in their already less than unclouded life – but even they felt weighted down by the close ceiling in the narrow confinement of the passage.

The unnatural, dead pale-blue light of glowrods under the ceiling reflected from metallic walls and basked the two silently moving figures in eerie luminescence. The overly bright glow assaulted tired eyes, burning them, blinding. Obi-Wan's movements became automatic, droid-like over the time. His consciousness became distant, detached, and he watched himself dully as though from the outside.

Qui-Gon turned yet again, asking if they should stop. Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of repugnant blurriness in his eyes. The Master stood watching him in silence. Qui-Gon's long hair, mattered from the gruesome battle were now painted silver, his face as though cut in stone under the lifeless light of the corridor, and Obi-Wan took a moment to simply watch him. Traces of weariness lined Qui-Gon's face with sharp lines, emphasized by his obvious concern.

 _A ghost,_ a sudden thought struck Obi-Wan. _He looks like a ghost. I must be looking no better. Except, I AM a ghost… Or am I?_

Thoughts tangled on themselves, making him wonder if he had lost an ability to think clearly all together and if it was permanent… Or if it would pass with time. 

Time… 

Time had looped today bringing him back to where he had thought he could never come again. Thoughts tangled once more, falling into a mass of confusion, throbbing with an almost palpable ache in his brain.

"Padawan?" the Master's voice was gentle and soothing like cool water, splashed over the overheated skin. "Can you go on?"

"Huh?" Obi-Wan slowly blinked, focusing bleary eyes on Qui-Gon. "Oh, yes, yes… let's go."

The Jedi Master studied him carefully, wondering if the apprentice was telling the truth or was simply trying to appear strong – after all these years the Padawan was still reluctant to show his weakness choosing instead to push himself to the limit. Qui-Gon only hoped that the limit wasn't yet surpassed. The harsh merciless light of this corridor gave Obi-Wan an ethereal look, making him appear painfully young and fragile. The strong, powerful young man from only hours before was now replaced with a fatigued boy barely out of his teens, strong in his own way yet so vulnerable… 

But there was something in his eyes – something Qui-Gon could not place, something that had not been there before. The Master couldn't quite determine what it was, yet this new quality of his Padawan's eyes was unsettling. But this was not the place nor was it the proper time for in-depth observations. Giving Obi-Wan another worried look Qui-Gon started to move forward. 

Kenobi pushed himself after him, every move seeming an impossible exertion. Every shift of a limb was draining, reminding him of that time when he had gone to Mos Eisley – it seemed another life now, a dream he was more than willing to forget, yet there was no forgetting. Obi-Wan let his mind wander back to the ceaseless row of days spent in Tatooine desert. That day had been the same as the one before it, and the one before it, at least, in the very beginning. Yes, he had gone to Mos Eisley to learn the news, to listen to pilots and pirates…

 _"I used to listen to all the traders and star pilots who came through the place."_

Obi-Wan turned his head sharply in search of the source of voice before he realized it was his own memory of Anakin talking. 

Anakin… The name held so much in it, was so thick with emotion for Obi-Wan that he dared not even think it now for the fear of losing what pitiful shards of control he still possessed. 

But what was he thinking? Ah, yes, Mos Eisley. He had gone there in his old battered land-speeder. Of course, it had not been nearly as battered and worn as it appeared, but that definitely had not been a good day for him – or for the speeder. Half way back to his dwelling – he could never bring himself to call the miserable hut a 'home' – the speeder had started to show all signs of malfunction complete with puffing and even smoke. He had been forced to stop and examine the machine coming to a distressing conclusion that not only would it not get him to his house right now but he would have to drag it there or leave it here for a while since the breakage had not been repairable out there in the desert. Ultimately deciding on the latter Obi-Wan picked all the water he had with him – which had not been much since he had never planned to stop – and started on his grueling journey. 

He never cared to count how many hours the trip had taken him as he had dragged himself through the scorching sands under the severe heat of two suns that had seemed to be mocking him from their vantage point in the crystal clarity of the sky. In the end he didn't remember how he had gotten to his dwelling. Much later Obi-Wan had found himself lying sprawled on the threshold, covered with a thin coating of fine sand, with his mouth full of sand and the tongue dry as emery. The suns had long since left the sky, giving place to billions of shining eyes of stars that stared down at him cold, uncaring – as uncaring as the peoples that inhabited planets around them.

He had risen then and walked into the hut, giving up the fruitless attempts to brush the sand away from his cloth. He had not noticed it then, but delusion had been already holding him in its tight grasp, whispering madness into his ears. 

He could now vaguely remember dashing around the house that night, spitting baleful words at the cold-hearted people out there who had betrayed and abandoned those who had been their protectors for hundreds of years. People who turned away from the Jedi in the time of their weakness.

People who accepted Palpatine and his ruling. People who accepted Empire. 

Empire. Dreaded and spiteful. But it was not so by default, it had been made so by those guiding it, by those directing its course. The two Sith…

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice cut razor-sharp into the thick beginnings of delusion that was forming around Obi-Wan like a fog. 

"Yes, Master?"

"What was it you just said?"

"Umm… did I say something?" Was he thinking aloud? No, he couldn't, he shouldn't! Qui-Gon should not know anything. No one should.

"Yes, you did. Something about an empire…"

"Empire? Umm… I… I meant a pyre… You know, they would be making pyres for those, er, killed… once this all is over, of course."

"Are you sure you're…"

_ Sane? No, Master, I'm not sure._ Obi-Wan thought dolefully. Aloud he said, "Fine. I'm just fine," feeling a chasm of mistrust starting to open between him and Qui-Gon – a chasm he was forging with his own hands.

Qui-Gon's doubtful glance slashed at Obi-Wan's heart, and he had to force himself to stay quiet, to not spill everything to the person he loved. With a shrug the Master turned away.

Several minutes passed in silence until the thin like a thread outline of an auxiliary door broke the flawless shining surface of the wall. With what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief Qui-Gon opened the door with one move and squeezed himself through it. Obi-Wan followed suit, forced eventually to lean onto Qui-Gon's hand lest he fall flat on his face as legs refused to support him for a moment.

The passage had brought them to the part of the palace Obi-Wan didn't recognize, and by the look on Qui-Gon's face the Master did not either. The hall was full of serenity and quiet melancholy that clung to the walls, decorated with semiprecious stone, and to the multiple portraits that gazed upon the two Jedi with coolness of eternity. 

"Hall of Fame," Qui-Gon suddenly said in a quiet, reverent voice.

"What?" Obi-Wan's blurry gaze traveled over the portraits slowly, not really seeing anything.

"I dare guess these are the Naboo rulers of the past. Perhaps queen Amidala has a portrait here too."

"Perhaps." 

Though Obi-Wan's eyes saw the high ceiling and tall slim columns and the beauty of carved frames his mind's eye saw only death and destruction, greedy flames eating the beauty, leaving ashes and ruins. The memory was so fresh despite all the years that Obi-Wan had to lean against a column, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to keep the macabre images away.

Qui-Gon put a hand onto his shoulder, steadying him, sharing warmth in a burst of Force.

"Hang on, Little One," the sympathetic voice was a calming song, a breath of fresh air.

"The battle must be over now," Obi-Wan replied, pushing himself away from the pillar.

The Master gave him a quizzical look but did not question, apparently deciding to leave it up to the apprentice to choose time for speaking. The apprentice, on the other hand, was more than positive that such time would never come to pass.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you everyone for the nice reviews. Well, that's it, you'll have to wait for a while. *Runs and hides from the enraged readers* Just read it.

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"You know, you were right. The battle seems to be over," said Qui-Gon in a voice that would have led any person to believe he was utterly disinterested in the matter he was speaking of.

Anyone, but not Obi-Wan who had learned over the years of his apprenticeship to discern the slightest signs of emotion in his Master's voice, to look past the imperturbable visage and see the real feelings there no matter how industriously they were hidden. Qui-Gon never showed his feelings openly – didn't consider it appropriate, and Obi-Wan had debated with himself throughout his life if it was a good thing or not. These debates usually led to a hopelessly twisted tangle of reasons and arguments which never showed its core.

 _Perhaps this is just a perfect illustration of the 'different points of view' lesson,_ Obi-Wan thought wryly, stumbling but catching himself.

He felt a prickle of relief that he had not lost the ability to sense Qui-Gon's mood, his inner emotions after so many years spent apart. He tried not to think about HOW many those years were. It was all undone now, it did not exist any more.

And now the Master was glad that the battle was over. Glad and concerned. Concerned for Anakin. A surge of sudden unease made Obi-Wan draw a sharp breath, and he almost doubled over as his lungs screamed at him angrily. 

Anakin.

How would he face him?

After everything…

Obi-Wan leaned back against the wall and felt chilling cold of polished stone cut into his skin even through the fabric of the tunic, sending his body into a fit of small shivers. His feverishly heated torso welcomed the pleasant coolness, absorbing it with hunger. 

Qui-Gon stopped to let him rest, and Obi-Wan watched the Master from under lowered eyelids. Tired. Old but majestic. Noble yet roguish features. He resembled the ancient statues that were adorning the carved room in abundance. The visage of a Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan ran his fingers lightly over the granite wall. A sudden vision made his fingers freeze and curl as though trying to dig into the stone. Flames eating away at that noble visage, devouring the body the spirit had long since abandoned. 

The vision was so fresh, so vivid it overshadowed reality, and Obi-Wan lowered his head as he did then. The present slipped away, leaving him in the fog of confusion and doubt. Was it the past or the future? The memory? Yes, memory… memory of what shall never be. 

The hand which lowered onto his forehead was cool against his burning skin, and with that touch some sense returned.

"Do not be afraid, Obi-Wan. I am not going to die."

Troubled blue-green eyes shot upwards to meet the reassuring gaze of midnight-blue ones. Slowly Obi-Wan nodded.

The source of Obi-Wan's recent unease chose that very moment to pass the tall painted doors on the opposite side of the room and upon seeing Qui-Gon Anakin bolted across the room – Qui-Gon, not him, Obi-Wan noted with mixed feelings, though why would the boy want to come to him? He wasn't anyone to him.

"We won!" Anakin cried happily – with a hint of proud and impatience to let everyone know about his deed, Obi-Wan observed. It seemed he hadn't lost an ability to discern his former student's emotions either. Whether it was good or not.

Qui-Gon smiled down at the boy gently, and an affectionate smile lit his face. The tall Master put his large hand onto Anakin's shoulder. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as an almost physical in its intensity pain slashed at his heart. It proved to be harder than he'd thought. _They are acquainted for three days – it's so little, almost nothing. And yet they are already drawn to each other._ He felt – or maybe it was only his imagination playing, at least he prayed it were so – felt the Force embrace the two in a tight circle of affection and predestination. Like the true Master and Padawan. And he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was being shut out of that private circle, left to stand aside – loyal to both and close to neither. 

By what mistake of Force had he become Anakin's Master the previous time? Because it couldn't be anything but mistake, he realized, watching Anakin and Qui-Gon together. They seemed to be the perfect match. 

A memory cut into his thoughts – unbidden, acrid – the memory of his own ascension into the rank of Padawan. How much fight, how much effort it had taken. How much of his heart had he had to give to receive love of his Master – love that should have been given for free – like it was being given to Anakin. Why hadn't he ever been loved for simply existing? Why had he always had to prove his worthiness? And still it hadn't ever been enough because Qui-Gon had been waiting for a perfect apprentice – and Obi-Wan could never reach that perfection which his Master so desired. Qui-Gon had been waiting for his Chosen One all along, not knowing it but waiting nevertheless. 

Loneliness – that ageless, lifelong loneliness which had been his constant ache and tormentor there, in the desert – resurfaced now. Sand and rocks, stone and statues – all the same, he was alone. Here, with two people he loved, with his family he was alone. 

Something hot and stinging burned Obi-Wan's cheek. He brushed his fingers over the tender skin, then extended his hand and looked with numb surprise at the moisture on his fingertips.

Tears?

Was he crying? Here? Now? He started to wipe them away but stopped short. Why should he hide his tears? No one would care if he cried. The thought echoed with bitter taste in his mouth, and he lowered his head again. 

Anakin and Qui-Gon were too full of each other to pay any attention to anything apart one another. The boy was telling his story, breathless with excitement. The Master was all attention, catching, it seemed, his every word. Funny, Obi-Wan thought, the story was the exact copy of the one Anakin had told his then-Master after he'd officially become apprenticed to Kenobi. 

 _I could have died here, and they wouldn't have noticed._ The bitter words formed in his clouded mind as though on their own volition. _So much for your care, my dear Master._

He knew Qui-Gon could have heard those thoughts, Obi-Wan was now in no condition to maintain his usual adamantine shields, and a part of him wished that the older Jedi did hear them. Wished to be admonished, wished to at least get a stern look – but none of that ever came. The other part of him wished to shrink away, to huddle up in a corner and melt down into oblivion. 

They didn't need him here. He was the two's company. Quietly Obi-Wan slipped out of the room.

He had to find medical facility. He vaguely remembered where it was, but it had been so long… He walked close to walls, leaning against them occasionally. The feeling of body disappeared, changing to an almost euphoria. The air seemed to acquire malleability. Breaths came in short gasps as Obi-Wan stumbled through the uncountable number of rooms – like an endless maze. 

Images of the present – hazy, blurred, framed with black fog and full of dancing spots – kept mixing with images from the past. Where columns stood he saw them charred and ruined; statues broken, windows shattered and paintings torn to shreds. He saw faces, swimming past him, and he followed them with bewildered stares for some of them were dead. 

A woman came before him. Padme. Amidala. He didn't know what to call her anymore. Symbolically white face now seemed an ashen mask of death. Red mark on her bottom lip seemed to be a trickle of blood. Obi-Wan froze before her, looking in awe. 

"… Kenobi…" As her lips moved words came to him as though from infinite distance, muffled, echoing. He strained to catch them. "… all right?"

She leaned forward a bit. Excitement rolled from her. She was happy to win. She was proud to win. Padme laid a sympathetic hand onto his forearm and looked into his eyes. Sparkling vivid eyes, hazel eyes…

He remembered those same eyes as he had taken away her child. How could he ever do such a thing? Was the possible restoration of the Order more important than suffering of a mother whose child had been taken? Was it worth the child's heart-rending cry as the baby reached for the mother?

Obi-Wan lowered his gaze in shame. He could not look at her, and he will never be able to.

"Obi-Wan?" She tried to catch his eyes, tried to find the reticent and loyal Padawan where there was now only an old man. She couldn't find what she sought. "Are you all right?"

This time he heard and he nodded automatically. She looked at him some more. He straightened in a small burst of energy but still refused to meet her eyes.

He didn't deserve her compassion.

And she walked away to celebrate her victory and mourn those lost – to carry on with her life.

Obi-Wan pushed himself from the wall and went forward again. He had all but forgotten about his destination, he only needed to move, move to keep living. People passed him like ethereal shadows – silent, unseeing. And he moved between them, a stranger on their festivity. No one came close to him, no one spoke to him.

Alone.

And then the walls started to crumble. His hand slipped over the smooth surface as he slid to the floor slowly, heavily. 

"Padme… and Anakin… forgive me," Obi-Wan whispered. Wheezing sound of his breathing was almost louder than his words. "And you… my Master… Qui-Gon. Forgive me…"

He rolled slowly onto his back and peered up. The ceiling was so high… Obi-Wan gave a strangled cry trying to protect himself with his arms as the ceiling started to fall down on him, until it buried him in black void.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you, everyone, for the reviews. Here's some more.

* * *

Bright and stinging awareness abruptly invaded his mind, and he jerked his head upward. Thunderous pounding that immediately spread through his brain, pulsing in the temples, made his head fall back onto the pillow limply as he closed his eyes against the harshness of light. 

"Hello, sweet sunny. You're awake – finally!" A female voice chirped somewhere to the side. 

Cautiously Obi-Wan opened left eye and peered at the woman – no, the girl, he quickly corrected himself as he saw vaguely her thin form clad in red and yellow. Her face, framed with chocolate-colored tresses, swam in foggy haze, too unclear to recognize.

"Who are you?" He marveled at the grogginess and harshness of his own voice.

"Sabe. Remember, Handmaiden to Her Royal Highness and all." Her voice was clear and strong, and slightly cutting in its intensity for his over-sensitive hearing.

"Ah, Sabe!" He remembered her now. And recognized her presence – the light sweet presence, much like fragrance of flower-scented perfume. "Where am I?" He swept the room with his eyes expressively. He had a fair idea of where he might be – an idea he didn't like much. White walls, characteristic smells…

"At the Palace Medical Center. Where else did you think you were?"

"Oh, I don't know. Morgue, maybe." He pictured a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, right. Nice sense of humor. How do you live with it?" Her voice dripped irony that would be enough for the whole population of Naboo.

He shrugged and slowly sat up, trying hard to not let the sheet covering him slip away. For he was suddenly painfully aware that there was nothing between his still sorely heated skin and the thin sheet covering him. 

"How did I get here?" he asked, trying to divert her attention from his somewhat clumsy efforts of keeping himself covered.

"I found you lying in the hall screaming and kicking, as though you were fighting something terrible."

He frowned in confusion, unable to remember any such thing. What could he possibly fight? And lying on the floor… 

Then it came to him. The ceiling, he had thought the ceiling had been falling on him. _Very nice,_ he thought grimly. _I was outright delusional. Tarius and his 'price'? No, it would've been too simple._

"I couldn't leave you there like that so I called the medics."

Sabe's voice became serious edging close to the regal voice she used when posing as queen.

"And I thought you've brought me in," Obi-Wan joked, trying to alleviate the mood. 

He looked around searching for some water, and Sabe immediately handed him a glass – fine glass with cool clear water. He gave her a thankful look and drank it in one gulp. Sabe smiled.

"Do I look that strong as to drag you all the way down here?" she asked, letting slight teasing tints color her tone.

He gave her an exaggeratedly evaluating look. "Appearances can be deceptive."

It had been a long time since he had last been so at ease with anyone outside the Temple – since the last time he had been so at ease at all. The vastness of desert came unbidden before his eyes, but he pushed it into the back of his mind firmly. He would NOT let it spoil this lightness.

"Oh, I'm not much stronger than I look."

 _No, you are, Sabe. You don't know it yet but you are much stronger than many._ He thought, suddenly grateful she could not read his mind.

He remembered the much older woman looking gravely at him from under the black with flaming red and white edges hood symbolizing grief. He remembered her eyes, full of sorrow and despair and pain. She had been grieving for her husband and two children lost to the terror of war. She had been grieving for her lost future. The third child – a small girl, frail and terse – had stood next to her mother, grasping her hand nervously, dressed in the same long black with red and white edges hooded cloak. It had seemed almost a blasphemy that this cloak had been worn by such a young child. Her frightened eyes looked out at the world from under the heavy hood not with curiosity but with caution and fear settled deep in her heart. 

Those eyes haunted him all the years in the desert, as did many other sights he would never be able to smooth away from his soul. If Force allowed he would not let it happen again. He felt his throat tightening. He shouldn't let it haunt him, not now.

"How long was I out?" Obi-Wan managed to keep his gloomy thoughts from tingeing his voice – barely. 

"Oh," Sabe sighed, "you were out cold for a month. Deep coma, you know. And while you were in the dreamland separatists overthrew the Republic, Jedi left for good, and the galaxy is on the verge of collapsing now." 

Her voice was serious, her words so close to the truth… He closed his eyes at the raging onslaught of baleful images: Temple burning and crushing, Jedi dying, Empire rising. Anakin…

"Hey, are you alright?" Sabe's voice cut into the agonized memories like strong chilling wind. "I'm just kidding. It was a joke, okay?" 

She sounded frightened. Obi-Wan forced his eyes open and looked at the girl at his bedside. She stared back at him with concern and worry etched in smooth features. He turned his gaze onto his own hands. They were shaking.

"Look, I'm sorry," she was now speaking softly, though her voice had already retained its calmness. "I didn't know you would react like this. Like… like you saw a ghost."

 _Ghost!_ This word was seemingly bound to raise odd feelings in him ever since his… transition.

"It's all right. I guess I just overreacted." He gave her a reassuring smile. "So let's start anew: how long was I out?"

"Just the night and a bit of the morning. It's almost afternoon now. So you can say you simply slept in… a bit."

"Uh-huh, slept in… Wait a minute, just one night?!"

"Right. I wanted to ask… Do all Jedi heal this quickly?"

"No, we do not. Usually." _What's going on?_ He surveyed his body through the Force for any hint of indisposition – and found none. He was absolutely healthy. _What in the stars?.._

"Well, since you seem to be fine I'll be going now."

She got up gracefully and went to the door, her dress rustling quietly over the floor.

"Thank you, Sabe," Obi-Wan called as she paused at the door. "For everything."

She turned, and he was struck by how young she really was. 

"You are welcome, Jedi Kenobi." And she disappeared behind the door, leaving him to himself.

* * *

A few hours later found Obi-Wan Kenobi wandering the Palace Gardens in peaceful solitude. Lush foliage, untouched by the Trade Federation's occupation, was a feast to the eye with shades varying from deep malachite to rich emerald to tender light-green. Numerous cascades and fountains filled the Gardens with soft murmurs of rushing water confined in close borders of marble bowls. Meandering paths sliced the Gardens in every direction, leading either to small groves or to little neat pergolas, all twined with bright blossoms. The inverted cup of clear azure sky covered the paradise-like place with its brilliant depth. Gentle wind ruffled Obi-Wan's short cut hair and played spryly with the long braid. 

This braid was one of the sharpest reminders for him of his past failures and of his new position. The braid he had laid onto the pyre of his dead Master. The braid he now wished – and hoped with all his heart – to hand to his Master after it would be severed. He imagined how it could happen, how he would put it into the large strong hands, and they would take it, holding tight.

The old dream resurfaced, so strong Obi-Wan barely managed to hold in a cry as the restored hope tore him from the inside. He fingered the braid tentatively as though afraid it would disappear, then grasped it tightly. 

Fates were turning, and dreams were about to come true.

He was positive he would be knighted soon. The acidic voice in the back of his mind tried to interject that it would happen only because Qui-Gon didn't want him any more, but Obi-Wan firmly shut that voice out. Here was no place for such thoughts. He would deal with them later.

He had done a good job of avoiding Qui-Gon so far because he had no idea how to answer the uncomfortable questions the older Jedi surely had in mind. Obi-Wan wasn't certain at all how Qui-Gon would react to the real story. And the more he thought about it the less assured he felt. And so he tried to find escape in the peaceful serenity of the Gardens.

His thoughts kept jumping from past to the future, then back to the present until they came to the question of his miraculous healing. Obi-Wan rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and gazed thoughtfully at the place where Maul's lightsaber had burned it yesterday. One would expect to find a glaring charred wound there, not the thin scar. It was plain impossible to heal this much in just one night. No Jedi Master could do that, not even Yoda. And no Jedi healer was known to be capable of such miracles. 

"I just thought it would be nice to speed things up a bit," a voice said from behind Obi-Wan.

The Jedi span around to find no other than Tarius sitting lazily on the marble balustrade.

"You did this?" Obi-Wan motioned at his still bare arm. "How?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, my dear Jedi. If I could bring you back in time…" Tarius let the end of the phrase hang in the air as he reached for a flower growing at his feet.

"So why did you come now?" Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn't get the Force-reading of Tarius but he was certain of one thing: he didn't like the man and would never trust him.

"My, my, you are so unwelcoming. I gave you the new life, and you talk to me like I'm a criminal."

Soft breeze didn't shift raven-black hair of Tarius. His incredibly light bluish-gray eyes reflected the cascading water of the fountain behind Obi-Wan. The reflection of moving water turned the eerie eyes into two captivating pools of swirling magic. Slim pale fingers picked the frail flower with merciless strength, and as soon as Tarius brought the tender petals to his lips color drained from the flower, and it withered. 

Obi-Wan watched this display of power and cruelty in stunned silence.

"So, my dear Jedi, I see you're doing quite well… so far. Not talking to anyone about your… experience, but that's up to you, of course. I'm here to take a look at the doing of my hands and to remind you that you still have the price to pay." The idle tone of voice was agonizingly irritating.

"What is the price? What exactly is it?" Obi-Wan knew he would get no answer – at least not the answer he wanted to hear.

"All in due time, all in due time. You will find out…" Tarius looked at his fingers as if counting something. "Yes, tomorrow. In the morning you will start paying what you owe."

Heavy chill crawled down Obi-Wan's spine, and he closed his eyes for a moment to fight it off. When he opened them again Tarius was nowhere to be seen.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

Big thanks for everyone who reviewed. Here is the next part. Hope you'll enjoy.

* * *

Obi-Wan wandered the meandering paths of the Palace gardens lost in thought, barely noticing the enticing beauty of this remarkable assimilation of human's art and nature, until he came face to face with the one person he wished to face the least in this time of confusion and indecision.

"Obi-Wan?!" 

Qui-Gon's voice was deep with surprise, and as Obi-Wan shifted his gaze up he saw the same wonder clearly showing on the bearded face, reflected in the sparkling blue eyes. There was no avoiding the conversation now, the younger man knew immediately, no matter how much he dreaded it.

"Master," Obi-Wan acknowledged the other Jedi with a curt nod. 

 _As though we are strangers!_

Qui-Gon looked him over with a scrutinizing yet kind gaze, most likely suspecting that Obi-Wan had left the medics' care without their consent as it had happened a few times in the past with the young apprentice running off, though Obi-Wan had never let his dislike of medics – the dislike that sometimes bordered with fear – to put him into danger. Yet Qui-Gon couldn't know this. Obi-Wan suddenly found it immensely hard to look at the Master and let his gaze wander to a small waterfall raining brilliant drops into a sophisticatedly decorated, white with cherry veins marble cup. 

"Padawan?" Qui-Gon's soft voice was full of anxiety and wonder.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes glued to the waterfall, staring at the silver threads of streams as they wove their way around the polished rocks at an enthralling speed.

"Little One?" A large hand lowered onto his shoulder, sharing warmth and care and weight – the weight of Qui-Gon's concern. 

Taking a deep heavy breath the younger man tore his gaze from the sparkling brilliance of spiraling water and turned to regard the tall Jedi. For a moment he stood silently, looking intently deep into lucid midnight blue eyes – the eyes he used to find consolation in – as though searching for an answer there.

"You want to know how I got healed this fast, don't you?"

The words that left his mouth sounded cold and calloused. And scorching like Tatooine sands. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes again unable to watch the wounded amazement spread on Qui-Gon's face. At any other time the Master would have hid this expression, but not now, not when they were alone. There was nothing for them to hide from each other, was there?

"What is wrong, Obi-Wan? What is happening to you?"

 _What IS happening to me? Perhaps you should ask what HAS happened to me – to all of us…_

The Master's voice was so very gentle, caring, loving, and Obi-Wan took a momentary respite in the familiar low rumbling of that sound he had thought he would never hear again. But the moment passed to never return, and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth in near despair. Where was the connection he and Qui-Gon had shared for the many years of his apprenticeship? Where was the connection he so longed to feel again ever since his Master's death? He was in a desperate need for it now, almost more than ever – yet he found he could no longer reach out to Qui-Gon with all the blind trust and utter hope he associated with his Master. Something inside of Obi-Wan's soul had been broken during those long thirty two years – it had broken and withered, and crawled deep into the farthest corner of his heart to pierce it with a blunt needle of pain. 

And now Qui-Gon was here, the same as before – kind and strong and understanding… Except the bridge was already burnt and the old-time Obi-Wan was gone forever to only live in memories. And the elderly Jedi Master in an apprentice's body unexpectedly and with grim astonishment found he could no longer trust the one he had once adored and could no longer confide into the man who now looked at him with the trust. 

He had always wondered if there was ever the faith Qui-Gon placed in him – or were there only words of consolation his friends – and Qui-Gon's friends – told him to raise his spirits. He saw that faith clearly now. And knew it was almost always there. He in his blindness, his crave for outward signs of love had never seen it. Now he knew it was there. But…

A lone tear slipped quietly from the corner of Obi-Wan's eye to roll down his cheek. Qui-Gon didn't see this tear – couldn't see. As he couldn't see the sudden tiredness that filled the blue-green eyes, basking them in gray shade.

Twenty years of seclusion had made him a loner, the Jedi purges had hardened his soul, had instilled qualities he would never imagine to possess as a Jedi. And those qualities were already ingrained in him, engraved into his very being: cautiousness, distrust, watchfulness… The list was enormous. And all of these qualities made him a different man. They made him lose faith.

Abruptly coming to a decision Obi-Wan straightened slightly. He would still play this sithly game called life but he would play it alone as he had done for twenty years. This new resolve brought peace into his soul – a desperate and submissive kind of peace – even as it tore his heart into bloody pieces. 

He locked eyes with Qui-Gon again, and this time there was something in his eyes that had never been there before. A wave of resistance shot through him, crying that he shouldn't deceive Qui-Gon – could not. But he brutally quelled it.

 _I am a Jedi Master, not a snotty Padawan,_ he told himself strictly. _I can handle this._ And as he thought it he eminently wanted to believe his own words.

"I will tell you everything, Master," he said out loud, keeping his expression as neutral as he could, remembering some of Tatooine's cantinas where a wrong glance could get you killed. "Let's just sit down and talk."

 _Like strangers…_

He lowered himself onto a large stone, the lower part of which was buried in emerald abundance of tall grass splattered with tiny white flowers and the upper part was warm from the late afternoon sun. His eyes swept the plethora of greenery around them, taking a measure of comfort in the simple beauty of nature, before finally settling on Qui-Gon. The Master followed his example – with a bit of difficulty where Obi-Wan's graceful young body had no obstacles – adjusted his cloak around himself and nodded to show he was listening.

"Yesterday, when I was trapped behind that laser wall…" Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He was going to tell an outright lie – something he had never done to his Master. He was going to deceive the one person who had always trusted him, whom HE always trusted.

Always?

He quickly silenced that acidic voice. Qui-Gon seemed to take his wavering for reluctance to speak about the painful moment.

"When I was behind that wall I suddenly felt a connection to the Force like I have never experienced before. It was as if the Force has doubled my strength, allowing me to break through the laser wall."

 _"How did my father die?" the young, innocent boy in front of him asked._

_The question he did not want to answer. The question he could not ignore. The truth he could not reveal._

_"A young Jedi named Darth Vader, who was a pupil of mine until he turned to evil, helped the Empire to hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights. He betrayed and murdered your father."_

_A shocked, open-mouthed expression on Luke's face._

The memory struck him unexpectedly, violently like a lightning, and he barely kept from squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers dug into the speckled stone, crumbling it. That had been a point of view… and so was what he had just told Qui-Gon.

Not quite the truth – not quite a lie either.

He felt Qui-Gon's gentle probing brush against his mind, and raised his shields to block the attempt. So Qui-Gon wasn't all that trusting after all. The thought hurt, eliciting a small shuddering breath, but it also reinforced his resolve. He was alone and alone he would stay – and fight. Yet a bitter feeling of betrayal filled Obi-Wan.

 _Oh, but am I not the one who has betrayed him? Didn't I break his trust when I couldn't keep the promise?_

The warm day suddenly chilled, and colours' vibrancy faded. As though afraid to stop the false admissions Obi-Wan continued, forcing himself to not gabble.

"And later… I don't think I was totally aware of what I was doing. The Force was guiding me in that battle."

He looked in the blue eyes again, expecting to find disbelief. Instead he found something he had never expected – and always craved. He found pride. The basic pride of Master for his apprentice. Long ago, in another life, this pride would have made his heart leap with joy, would have made him blush with pleasure – now it only added to the weight on his shoulders.

Qui-Gon put a hand onto his shoulder, and Obi-Wan almost shrank away from the touch. He'd rather hear accusations than feel this undeserved pride.

"Padawan, you will become a great knight, I have no doubt of that."

 _Yes, indeed. Great enough to let everyone down._

Qui-Gon frowned, and Obi-Wan felt a prickle of fear that he had picked on the last thought.

"Obi-Wan, are you feeling well? You are pale."

"Yes, I'm fine," he pictured a small smile. "The medics let me go, but I think I need some fresh air. It's soothing here, in the gardens."

 _And it's nothing like Tatooine – the Sith-cursed planet._

"It is. Almost like the Temple Gardens."

Qui-Gon smiled at the fond memory, and the apprentice watched the familiar small wrinkles appear around his eyes with a catch at his heart. Obi-Wan's smile grew wider as though answering the Master's smile, genuine this time.

"Well," Qui-Gon stood up from the stone. "I think I'll go check on our brave queen. You walk around here, savor the nature but take it easy. And don't forget to join us at dinner."

The lightness of the Master's tone was discouraging. But whether he believed Obi-Wan's story or not Qui-Gon seemed to be willing to abide by the Padawan's rules – at least for the time being – and let the matter drop. Qui-Gon started to walk away when Obi-Wan called after him.

"Will the Council come here?"

the tall Jedi stopped and turned in surprise. "No, why would they? Where did you get this idea?"

"I…" Obi-Wan lowered his eyes in confusion. What a slip! "I thought they might want to come examine what is left of the Sith," he tried to amend.

"Oh, I don't think there is anything left for examination. By the way, we're going home the day after tomorrow. So enjoy Naboo while you can."

With a merry wink the Master turned and soon disappeared behind the trees. Obi-Wan was left alone to ponder his situation. Silently he stood up and walked over to the waterfall.

 _Home. Home is the place where your loved ones live. Your home is your stronghold. The most safe and most warm place in the galaxy. But where is your home when there's no one you can trust? When you fear to trust, fear to inflict pain on them?_

_"Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering…"_

Was he plunging headfirst into the Dark Side this way? Was this Tarius' plot? The real one.

There was no one to answer, no one to seek counsel from. 

Again.

He was now no less lonely than he had been in the cursed desert. Only now he was cutting all his connections himself, creating a void he hated – and had gotten used to.

Obi-Wan sat at the edge of the waterfall's pond. Several tears rolled down his face – or were they only splashes of water? The waterfall seemed to be weeping with him, and he suddenly thought he heard a phantom voice of crying water.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

The long day had finally come to its end – like any other day. The falling night had instilled tormenting apprehension and restlessness into Obi-Wan, making him pace the room given to him like a caged animal. He had thought he wouldn't be able to fall asleep this night knowing that morning held the price for him to pay, yet by some unknown force he had fallen into a dreamless – mercifully devoid of nightmares – sleep, never bothering to undress, sprawled on the wide bed.

The morning came into his room bright and clear, shining with soft sun – so much unlike Tatooine's two monsters – and thrilling with birds' cheerful song for the glory of the new day. He stretched on the silky covers of the huge bed like a large feline, drinking in the pure energy of non-artificial life, forgetting his yesterday's dread for the time being. Getting up with ease he could barely remember himself possessing he did all the morning routine. 

Several minutes later he walked over to the tall window and looked out at a vast landscape stretching out before him still basked in violet haze over the horizon. An encompassing sense of serenity washed over him, and he stilled, leaning onto the windowsill, holding his breath as though it might break the beauty of the picturesque view. 

He felt his soul fill with the quiet peace of the place, forgetting everything. Until…

Until he drew upon the Force.

Until he tried to draw upon the Force.

Breath hitched in his throat as he suddenly felt himself blind – blind to the Force, to the only thing he used to rely upon and to find consolation in, to find strength in.

"Dear Force!" the strangled words tumbled out of his mouth involuntarily.

His fingers grasped the windowsill hard until his knuckles turned white. This could not be! It wasn't possible!

He could not lose the Force!

Guardedly he reached out again – and grasped nothing, his mental fingers brushing through cold hollowness where brilliant energy once resided. Emptiness, lifeless void veiled his senses, leaving him inept and confused. The colours outside the window faded, the birds' cheerful singing turned into a troubling cacophony of shrill sounds. 

He was not arrogant – or stupid – enough to think the Force itself had ceased to exist. He knew the problem was inside him.

"It is a dream, only a dream," he forcefully told himself – and his voice sounded hollow to him, hollow and hoarse. "He couldn't have done this to me…"

"Sir?.." called a female voice soft and ringing with barely masked confusion bordering with fear.

Obi-Wan turned sharply and locked eyes with a young girl – undoubtedly one of the palace servants – standing at the opened door in uncertainty. 

"Yes?" he squeezed out through clenched in an attempt to keep himself gathered teeth.

"Sir… Queen Amidala sent me… to ask… i-if you would join her and others at the breakfast." The girl stuttered in haste.

 _Do I look that awful to frighten her so?_ Obi-Wan wondered absently.

"Tell her I don't feel well and would like to stay here," he replied with all calmness he could muster. "Just leave me alone!" words escaped him in spite of himself.

"Ah… Yes… Of course… As you wish…" 

The girl scurried off almost slamming the carved wooden door shut behind her. 

Obi-Wan turned back to the window. He knew what was going on. He knew who took the Force from him, and the knowledge weighted down on him suddenly heavy as though a planet's weight had been put onto his shoulders. There was no other possibility.

"Tarius! Tarius…" He never knew his voice could hold so much disgust, so much hatred – hatred that frightened him, echoing around the empty room.

If the man appeared there Obi-Wan would most likely stalk him and choke – or at least tried to.

So this was the price.

 _I've traded Qui-Gon's life for my own blindness to the Force._

He lowered his head as a surge of indecision engulfed him. Was the game worth the candle? Or had he spoiled everything and at the same time flung himself into a chasm of hopelessness?

"Yes, it is worth it. It is…"

Only he was worth nothing anymore. A Jedi without the Force. A bird without wings to fly, a rainbow without colours. 

A smile that split his face was more like a grimace.

 _At least, Qui-Gon is alive. He will train Anakin, and everything will be fine. They don't need a failed apprentice without the Force and with the coarsened soul of an old hermit. No one needs._

Apprentice… He suddenly thought of what he would have done had this happened to the twenty-five-year-old version of him. His hand strayed to the silky braid behind his right ear, and the fingers stroked it lightly. The apprentice would have cut the braid. Obi-Wan's fingers grasped it tightly as though in fright it would turn out severed. The apprentice would have put the braid on the pillow with a note to his Master – and leave. 

The young and – it must be confessed – silly and naïve apprentice would have probably written the note with passionate indignant words, blaming the Master for never loving him. And then there would've been an unresolved issue poisoning their both lives. The issue they would've never been able to resolve in their mutual stubbornness. 

If Luke were there he would have recognized the look he had only seen on the old and weathered face. But there was no one to witness this moment, and it passed unheeded.

The apprentice would undoubtedly have done so… But he was no apprentice. He would stay, he would go back to Coruscant with Qui-Gon and Anakin and come what may.

He would have to talk to Qui-Gon. A wave of reluctance raised – somehow confiding into Qui-Gon seemed the hardest thing to do. Surely, if he were to come to the Temple – as he would – the whole Temple would soon know of his… 'predicament'.

_'Predicament'? That's how you call it? What an understatement!_ His sarcastic mental voice was still with him, Force or no Force.

But Qui-Gon would have to be the first to know. Preferably in private. In private…

Obi-Wan froze awkwardly in the doors to the Throne room, finding suddenly that he had walked all the way here unawares. Qui-Gon was here – as was the whole Naboo court. So much for talking in private. Everyone turned to look at him, and he barely suppressed a growing blush.

"Master, can I speak to you?"

"Now?" Qui-Gon opened his mouth to say something else, yet apparently something in Obi-Wan's appearance or the apprentice's eyes made him change his mind. He nodded instead of speaking and apologized to the queen for leaving.

A few strides later the Jedi Master led his ragged and distraught looking apprentice out of the Throne room; the door slid close with a faint swoosh behind them.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?" The tone was neutral.

"Can we talk somewhere more… quiet?"

Nodding again Qui-Gon led the way to a small pergola in the garden. The little shelter was twined with climbing stems of exotic plants, vestured with large soft cream-coloured flowers. 

_He must have thought the verdant flowers would bring calm to me, _the younger man decided. 

Qui-Gon motioned for Obi-Wan to sit and lowered himself onto a bench next to him.

"What is it, Padawan? What is bothering you?"

Obi-Wan's gaze traveled over the flowers as he found himself unable to look at the Master. 

"Don't you feel it?" He didn't mean for it to come out this way. What was he doing?

"Feel what?"

 _He doesn't realize? He thinks…_

"The Force in… me. Do you feel it?"

A followed pause scratched onto Obi-Wan's nerves, almost making him fidget. 

"What?… How?…" 

Obi-Wan – who suddenly felt more like old Ben – thought that he had never heard so much bewilderment in Qui-Gon's voice.

"Little One, what happened?" The aching gentleness in the deep voice tore something deep inside Obi-Wan, but he reacted the way even he didn't expect.

"Don't call me that!.. Please." He still refused to look at his brother in the Force and his father in the Jedi Order.

"I thought you liked it." 

"I-I did… Once… long ago."

 _So much for the resolve to be alone._

"What do you mean?" Deep confusion rang in the words. "Padawan, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yes, I am." Obi-Wan sighed. "And I am not your Padawan… anymore."

"If it's about Anakin…"

"No. Let us leave him out of this… for a while. There is something I should tell you about myself, something you do not know."

"You know that there are some things a Padawan needs to keep secret, even from…"

"It's not of that kind! Oh, I keep interrupting you…" Obi-Wan smiled a tight smile. 

Gathering all his courage he briefly retold the story of his life finishing with the second duel with Maul. He finally dared look at Qui-Gon's face and saw bafflement, disbelief – he did not need the Force to read that face.

"Padawan, you…"

"I am older than you now." He could not keep the bitterness out of his tone. "How can I be your Padawan?"

Qui-Gon seemed to struggle to come to terms with the stunning news. And Obi-Wan could tell he wasn't succeeding.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Return with you… and Anakin… to Coruscant. And then… leave, I suppose. There is no place for a non-Force-sensitive in the Temple."

"Maybe you can stay…"

He never thought Qui-Gon's voice could sound so – pleading.

"I don't think so. I think… I better stay alone… for now."

He watched the tall Jedi stand up slowly, wrapping up his cloak around himself as though cold, then turn around and leave without as much as a glance back – slowly, reluctantly. And as the Master went Obi-Wan could almost see the rift opening between them – the rift that could never be mended. 

They had been brothers in the Force – like all Force-sensitives. Now they were beings of two different worlds.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Many thanks to every single person who took time to review. Here is some more.

* * *

The day next to that fateful for Obi-Wan day had passed in a blur. The visibly young man, though sometimes hunched like an oldster, he roamed the spacious halls of the Royal Palace of Theed like a ghost or silent shadow, barely speaking to anyone even when addressed. Truth be told, almost no one dared to speak to him as if sensing the wrongness of his situation, as if the aura of misery and loss clinging to him was palpable, scaring everyone off. 

The long folds of his brown cloak swept the halls with faint rustle which only added to the gloomy silence that seemed to follow Obi-Wan around. His shaded gaze never lifted to look at the stunning beauty of the palace – the beauty was dead to him as were his senses. 

His mind was immersed in dull gray mist, hanging over him like a thick nastily warm, suffocating blanket. Obi-Wan missed the keenness and clarity of the Force, it's brilliancy – all that which he had taken for granted all his life. And now without it he felt lost and empty, inept, worthless. He had lost what he had with him from his birth; everything he had been taught from infancy was now useless. And with the Force the meaning of his life was gone too. He was helpless, defenseless – and this feeling of inadequacy, of vulnerability had settled a bone-deep fear inside him, the fear he had never known before.

Throughout what seemed hours of his aimless wanderings he had not met Qui-Gon or Anakin, and for that he was grateful. He did not want to speak to either now, nor did he want to see them. He only wanted to crawl into the smallest slit, curl himself up into a ball and never come out again. 

Sometimes he wished he could return to his lonesome hovel in Tatooine desert – the shelter as he thought of it now. He wanted to return to his dull existence there – not life, only existence. But he still wanted to return to it. 

"Because it is easier," he said aloud to the empty hall, and the echo of this thought, the implications of it scared him.

Easier. When? When had he become the one to seek the easy way?

Never!

"Never," he said firmly.

But what if the way he had chosen was too hard for him?

He wrapped the cloak tighter around himself as though chilled by some phantom wind. What if…

"There are no 'what ifs'. There is only here and now. Only here and now…"

His fingers brushed the polished stone surface of a malachite column as if he had been expecting it's solidity to anchor him to the present, to this moment of time and space. The fingertips traced multifarious deep-green and black designs of the semiprecious stone absently. 

"So complicated, so diverse – like life itself," he murmured in a split second of fascination. 

Then his hand dropped listlessly, and he walked away to continue his endless wanderings – and his even more endless musings.

He still wished to return to his existence on Tatooine, the existence that had become a habit, engraved into his very soul during those long years. But he knew those days were in the past now.

_Or in the future,_ he thought wryly.

In a moment of incredible apathy, of sudden weakness he hugged himself and leaned against a windowsill, resting his hot – feverish even – forehead against the cool limpidity of the glass. 

Out there, in the garden, there was life still going on – the same as ever. And only he was locked here, inside this building… and inside himself. His palm landed flat onto the glass in an unconscious attempt to sweep aside this almost invisible barrier. If anyone saw his eyes at this moment they would have recognized a look of a prisoner watching a scene of freedom, freedom agonizingly close yet unreachable.

But no one saw his eyes. And he closed them, wishing that tears would come. Tears could bring some release. But his eyes remained stingingly dry. 

He stayed there with his forehead pressed against the glass watching the life outside from distance, until a young handmaiden came looking for him. The girl, trembling with uncertainty and some measure of awe as she apparently had picked up on his gloomy mood with her female instincts, told him he was required to attend the celebration of unity of Naboo people with Gungans. 

Reluctantly he parted himself from the window, feeling weariness beyond belief pull him into its tiresome embrace. He followed the girl without a word, muffling himself up in his trusted cloak as it seemed to be the only defense he was left, trusting the handmaiden to lead him wherever he was meant to be. He didn't really care where his place would be – he suddenly didn't care for anything. 

The girl's rigid back plainly showed how uncomfortable she was around him, even her flowing clothes could not hide the tension. And he could not miss the relief on her face when she showed him the entrance to the wide avenue where the festivities were going to take place and turned to depart. She was clearly more than glad to leave the sullen Jedi. 

He looked out at the street, and a picture from the past rose before his eyes, shadowing the present. He remembered this place all too well. Same as before the street was bristling with masses of people and Gungans. The traces of war still clouded their faces, yet those were cheerful faces. He turned to look at the dais at the end of the street where Amidala had been the last time…

The queen stepped out onto the dais, and he once again was amazed by the regal air she wore easily like a cloak around her. The elaborate strikingly white gown shone in the bright midday sun, spawning millions of brilliant sparks reflecting from numerous gems. He suddenly thought that only angels might look like this. It was not her dress though that made her queen. Like it was not her dress that made her who she was. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly at the surge of a painful memory. When he opened them again she still stood there – straight and proud. Not a fourteen-year-old girl but a true queen. 

He knew his place was at her side and he started to walk towards her when his steps faltered. He froze for a second, quelling a tidal wave of emotions that raised in him, threatening to drown what was left of his inner balance. 

Qui-Gon… and Anakin. Together. Like Master and Padawan. Like he and Anakin had once stood – no, not like that at all. Then, long ago, they stood together, yet apart. He could clearly recall how far from each other they stood then. And now Anakin resided right in front of Qui-Gon, and the large hand of the tall Master rested easily on his shoulder. The boy had not the Padawan haircut yet, but looking at them together Obi-Wan realized that when it comes to take its place it would only be an unnecessary symbol. 

While his was now the symbol of emptiness and death – death of relationship. 

Shaking his head slightly Obi-Wan started to walk again, determined to not fall so far as to show his weaknesses to everyone around who cared to watch. He avoided looking at Qui-Gon as he went. He was afraid to find pity and questions in those eyes. But above other things he was afraid to find love there. Pity he could deal with; questions he could deal with. But love.

He had forgotten how to deal with love.

Still avoiding eye contact, he took his place at the other side of Amidala. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Anakin glance quizzically at Qui-Gon, but ignored it. Instead he surveyed the setting… and his blood turned cold when his eyes locked with icy pale blue orbs of the most terrible creature he knew. 

Palpatine, dressed in his dark green gown, looking like a giant snake, stared back at him, unblinking. Obi-Wan's stomach coiled into tight knots, and he felt long-forgotten anger colour his cheeks. The newly elected Chancellor watched the Jedi with an expression that sent shivers down Obi-Wan's spine.

_He knows!_ A sudden thought struck him, bathing Obi-Wan in cold sweat despite the hot day. _Dear Force, he knows!_

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Finally, at long last, the next piece is here. I had some trouble getting back into character. Thank you everyone for your patience with me and for your reviews. 

* * *

Streaks of soft radiance lined the borderless infinity of hyperspace blackness. Dimmed glowrod shed pastel gleam across the room, hiding more than it could reveal. Perched on a resting cot, Obi-Wan sat in thought, plunged in semi-darkness. His chin was resting on his palms. Dull eyes remained fixed on the viewport, unseeing. His thoughts wandered. 

Palpatine – the newly elected Supreme Chancellor of the Republic – had offered to give the three of them a lift to Coruscant. Obi-Wan couldn't help a sarcastic mirthless grin tugging at his lips at the irony of their situation. The Sith Lord and the Jedi abroad one ship on a friendly trip… 

Obi-Wan had done his best to keep as far away from Palpatine as the ship's limited space allowed. The instant they had bordered he had found this tiny room, that was unlikely to attract anyone else's attention, and secluded himself in here. No one had bothered him yet, for which he was grateful. He had too many things to think over.

And first of them was Tarius. An enigma. Inconceivable creature. Who or what he was? What was his gain in all this? For Obi-Wan had not a single doubt there was a gain: people like him never do anything for free. What could a person with no capacity to affect the world of matter possibly gain from bringing him, Obi-Wan, back in time and then taking the Force from him? The twenty-five-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi would have seen no sense in it and dismissed the thought altogether. The fifty-seven-year-old Ben Kenobi knew there was something he could not see – yet. He probably would see it – and, Force grant, not too late. For now the questions stayed unanswered, taunting. 

Then there was Palpatine. A rancor in bantha's clothing. A very real and deadly threat. While onboard this transport Obi-Wan was relatively safe. After years of disguising Palpatine would not give himself away for the sole purpose of hastily getting rid of one defective former Jedi. 

_And a defective man as well_, Obi-Wan added ruefully. _Where normal people have lifetime habits of dealing without Force I have… void_. 

Yes, the ship was safe. Still, the trip to the capital wouldn't be infinite, so it was only a matter of time. Undoubtedly Sidious would be able to eliminate him even under the protection of the Temple's walls. 

To stay alive Obi-Wan had to disappear. Again.

The finality of this decision descended heavily onto his heart. Ever since his acceptation of Tarius' offer he had been – almost unbeknownst to himself – cherishing a hope of returning to the Temple. 

_Hoping is silly, old man…_ He told himself with exaggerated sternness.

A quick shadow that flickered across the glowrod's faint light startled Obi-Wan. He froze, then slowly surveyed the room. With no Force to warn him of danger he was more vulnerable than he had ever been – more than he could ever imagine he would be. Nothing. No one. Was he getting paranoid? 

That flickering shadow again.

Muscles tensed, ready to leap into action. Lifelong training kicked in. 

It wasn't his imagination. It was… there. 

A crooked smile of relief cracked his lips. A moth. Only a small, fragile, almost translucent moth. How in the stars could it have gotten into the starship? Drawn by the glowrod's light the moth fluttered around it frenziedly.

"How did you end up here, poor thing?" Obi-Wan asked the tiny being. "Aren't you supposed to fly the fields? Or have you forsaken the freedom of Naboo for this fake light?"

The moth tried – vainly – to find its way to the source of mesmerizing glow. The man watched its fruitless efforts. Wasn't he, Obi-Wan, just like this moth? Wasn't he struggling just as desperately? Weren't his efforts just as useless?

"Why are you so sad? You feel bad?" Anakin's voice, quiet and cautious yet shrill in the silence of hyperspace, alarmed Obi-Wan. He looked at the boy trying to quell emotions that sprang forth: fear at first, irritation at being bothered, almost panic as he saw who stood at the doorway. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and it helped, maybe, out of habit. Hurriedly he plastered a welcoming smile onto his face.

Anakin watched the young man with an expression that was all too familiar to Obi-Wan: curiosity, genuine sympathy and readiness to bolt in fright any moment. Expression of the former slave who knew all the ins and outs of harsh life. Seeing a smile he grew bolder and made several steps into the tiny compartment. 

"Yes, you feel bad," the boy continued with assurance. He climbed onto the bunk next to Obi-Wan and gazed up at him. "You're ill, aren't you?"

"You could say so." The penetrating stare of crystal-blue orbs was unsettling. Obi-Wan shifted his eyes to the door – anywhere, just not to look into the sparkling depth of those painfully familiar eyes. 

He had seen all scope of expressions in those eyes, ranging from laughter to concern to anger and even to hatred. 

"I'm sure they will help you at the Temple." Anakin suggested. Then added a bit quieter, "Mom would have helped."

"Of course she would."

He had never gotten a chance to talk to Shmi. Had never seen her. And Anakin returned to her only when… No, this time it would be different. Qui-Gon wouldn't let it happen.

Anakin folded his short legs under himself and gazed at the glowrod. Seeing the boy's attention diverted Obi-Wan studied him carefully. He had forgotten Anakin had been this small at the beginning. Nothing in his appearance hinted at Vader.

Anakin watched the moth struggle.

Out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan caught sight of Qui-Gon standing at the door. The Jedi Master was watching them, not revealing his presence. Anakin was too distracted to notice him. Obi-Wan pretended he didn't see the imposing figure of his former Master. Qui-Gon studied his two apprentices – the former and the future – with a pensive and wistful expression. Once, many years ago, Obi-Wan would have thought the Master was comparing them. Once, but not now. Qui-Gon was simply observing them, probably, knowing he would never again see them sitting peacefully together like this. Obi-Wan nearly called him in, but didn't. 

A minute later Qui-Gon left. 

Anakin, with his energetic and passionate nature, could not tolerate silence for long. Soon he was excitedly telling Obi-Wan the incredible story of his victory over Neimodians. 

"And then there's a whole throng of them 'round me! And I fire at them!" His fingers curled as though around a trigger. "Boom!" 

"You dislike them very much?" Obi-Wan asked with a smile that didn't, however, reflect in his eyes.

"They're evil and nasty. I'd like to kill them all!"

Sparks of fury flashed in the boy's suddenly darkened eyes. Obi-Wan didn't need the Force to sense the wave of spite rolling off Anakin. The young man frowned.

"You think they deserve to be killed?"

"Of course! They will know not to attack peaceful planets like Naboo." There wasn't a slightest trace of hesitation or doubt about the rightfulness of his words in Anakin's voice. 

_Is this the first trace of Vader?_ Obi-Wan mentally wondered.

"Who's Vader?"

Obi-Wan started. The question, asked out of innocent curiosity, was thundering, accusatory for the former Jedi. He looked in fright at the small powerful creature beside him, whom – he once thought – he had been used to know. 

"You can hear what I think?" the man asked cautiously, softly, wary of the slight tremble in his voice.

"Um, yeah. You know, you were so…" he fumbled for the suitable word, "closed before. And now you're all open, and I can hear what you think." Anakin gazed up at Obi-Wan, gauging his reaction. There was no hint of remorse at overhearing other's private thoughts in the boy's eyes.

Making up his mind, Obi-Wan abruptly stood. "It's been a long day. You should get some sleep."

"You're going to talk to Qui-Gon?" Anakin was nothing if not keen.

"That too."

Obi-Wan refused to ponder on whether the look in Anakin's eyes was jealousy or something else entirely. His thoughts weren't his anymore – and it was not only embarrassing, but could quickly escalate to outright dangerous if he let his contemplations stray.

Anakin cocked his head to the side and studied the man in front of him. Then he suddenly yawned widely like a little child that he was. 

"See?" Obi-Wan smiled despite himself. _See? You can do this_. The smile wasn't unlike the one he gave Luke back at the _Millenium__ Falcon_. 

Anakin yawned again and climbed onto the cot. "I will sleep here," he announced.

"All right, but you need some blankets. It's cold here – especially compared to Tatooine." He almost shivered himself. It was cold indeed. 

"Yeah, Tatooine is hot." Anakin curled up, and Obi-Wan draped a warm downy blanket over him. 

"Good night… Ani." 

But the boy was fast asleep and didn't hear.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

Big thanks to Xeana for her help with this one.

Soundlessly like a ghost crept Obi-Wan Kenobi down the narrow passageway. Faint lights and steady muted hum of starship's engines created the feeling of deep slumber, a realm of dreams where reality was non-existent. The artificial night was at its height. The ship drowned in sleep, save for several persons. At the door to the cabin where Qui-Gon resided for the time being Obi-Wan paused as if listening. Listening to the sounds, to his own inner voice, trying vainly to listen to the Force's gentle murmur – after a lifelong habit, perhaps. Hesitation suddenly overtook him, eating away at his determination. Should he be bothering Qui-Gon at this late an hour? Would it be… correct?

_Afraid, are you?_

He had to admit that he was. Afraid to show he was vulnerable. Afraid to talk to Qui-Gon – something that he had barely ever felt. That was something he knew he shouldn't feel. But… No longer was he the young Obi-Wan the Master saw in him, nor the old Obi-Wan who had died on the Death Star.

A total stranger even to himself.

_Right now such thinking is not going to take me anywhere,_ he chastised himself.

Obi-Wan knocked, resolutely banishing his fear to the farthest corner of his mind.

"Enter."

Taking a deep breath as though facing a reckless dive he opened the door and stepped through. The Master was seated on the carpeted floor in a meditative posture. Brown, threaded with silver strands, hair lay over the shoulders. Leonine features relaxed, Qui-Gon was the very picture of serenity, the embodiment of Jedi. The image was so painfully familiar that Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat. Would he ever get used to being in the past, to seeing Qui-Gon alive? Or would he always feel that this fragile delusion could shatter any moment, leaving him in the suffocating heat of Tatooine?

The Jedi Master's eyes opened watching the former Padawan for a second.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?" The voice was full of gentle concern.

"I need your help."

"Anything. Any time. You should know it by now." A slight, vaguely teasing smile.

Obi-Wan returned a tight smile. Qui-Gon gestured for the younger man to sit across from him, but Obi-Wan moved to sit on a low cot instead. Surprise flickered across his face, but Qui-Gon didn't comment. Gracefully he rose – though not so gracefully as he would a couple of years before, Obi-Wan noted with a tinge of bitterness. He knew how it felt, he could sympathize. Still, he, Obi-Wan, had regained his youth while Qui-Gon would not.

_Had it been he,_ Obi-Wan reflected, _he undoubtedly would have used his chance better than I did._

Unaware of his counterpart's musings, the older man lowered himself next to Obi-Wan and looked him in the eye.

"How can I help, Little One?"

Wrought out of his thoughts, Obi-Wan cringed inwardly, wondering why he felt so opposed to being called that. Hadn't he tried uncountable times to remember the sound of this words coming from Qui-Gon? Hadn't he missed it?

So why?

Probably, reasoned the wise and cynical part of him, this title was now too much in contrast with his own perception of himself. Provided, he couldn't even frame that perception. But he never voiced the thought.

"Now that I don't have access to the Force anymore," he started calmly instead, "my mind has no shields whatsoever. This is dangerous. I need some protection for my thoughts and, more importantly, my memories." He paused, gauging the other man's reaction. The Jedi didn't seem convinced. "Qui-Gon, I know too much. If even Anakin – untrained as he is, with his indigested connection to the Force – is able to read me like an open book, the whole Temple will be aware as soon as I set my foot on Coruscant."

"I understand." Was it pity in those tender yet keen eyes? "But I don't see how I can be of any help." Or was it powerlessness – the trait so unanticipated in the rogue Jedi Master? "I never heard of a non-Force-sensitive to have the shields strong enough to stop a Force-user. Let alone of someone to be able to build such shields." Hopelessness, that's what it was, Obi-Wan concluded.

"I have."

Qui-Gon straightened and looked at him in disbelief. Obi-Wan could imagine him thinking: _here sits my Padawan, the one I raised, the one I watched grow from an angry but kind-hearted boy to a lanky, insecure youth to a strong and capable young man. I spent half his life beside him. So how could he know what I never even heard about?_

"I'm as old as you are," reminded Obi-Wan quietly. And at that moment he acutely felt the weight of those years resting on his shoulders – as well as the rift those words widened between them. The rift he had hoped to close up.

Something imperceptible shifted in the Master's countenance, a veil of coldness and misunderstanding shrouded it. Seeing this, Obi-Wan sighed inwardly.

"Very well, tell me then."

And Obi-Wan related all he knew. When he was done, Qui-Gon leaned back and rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"This is something I have never heard about, which means nothing, of course. Still, it sounds like a dangerous thing to do. Mind is not a plaything to trifle with."

"In any case, it is my mind we are going to 'trifle' with. I take all responsibility upon myself."

Qui-Gon mumbled something about reckless padawans thinking too much of themselves, and Obi-Wan smirked despite himself.

"Padawans do grow up to be responsible." _Do they?_ he mentally asked himself. "Sometimes."

Qui-Gon barked a short laugh, but there was still heaviness in his eyes.

"Well, then, if you don't mind, let us begin." Obi-Wan found he had to struggle to keep his voice even as sudden hesitance born of deep-buried fear engulfed him. True, he had heard of this procedure – or rather read about it during one of those rare and treasured occasions he had some time for himself which he could afford spend shuffling though the Temple Archives, reading at random. He hadn't given much thought to it then, but it rooted in his memory. And now it resurfaced, probably serving as a proof that nothing happened by coincidence.  
  
But reading of such a procedure being carried out and actually testing it on his own mind were very different things. And that was where his fear originated. He would be forced to let someone – although a trusted someone – trusted? – yes, trusted! – tamper with his mind. And Force knows what it could result with. For some time he would be totally exposed and vulnerable, naked. Helpless. He couldn't remember feeling this helpless for over three decades. Or had he ever been? Because even the Council couldn't – or didn't – reach into the deepest recesses of one's mind. Considering he hadn't faced the Jedi Council for two decades.  
  
_Caught between two fears choose the least._  
  
He looked at Qui-Gon, barely managing to cover a surge of suspicion. The Master was patiently waiting for him to gain composure and confidence.  
  
Obi-Wan averted his eyes in shame.

_When will you stop suspecting everyone to spy on you?_ he mentally berated himself. _Have you become so used to living in your shell that you can't leave it even seeing an ocean before you?_

_Fear is the path to the Darkside,_ the saying of the wizened old Master came to him for no reason at all. Fear leads to anger or makes you weak, incapable. He needed neither. He could afford neither.

"We better start before I lose my nerve." He gave a faint smile.

Qui-Gon nodded curtly and settled for a short meditation to find his center.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and waited for the intrusion into his mind. It should be familiar sensation, he tried to persuade himself. It didn't matter if he was Force-sensitive or not, did it? It had to feel the same way. He _had_ experienced it before…  
  
Yet when it came it was far too different from what he had imagined. Things like this had always been like a soft pressure edging on dumb firmness on the inner side of his scull. Usually when and if the pressure increased it turned into dull numbing ache, and never more. But all those previous times the intrusions had been buffeted by Obi-Wan's shields – more or less solid.   
  
This time his mind was absolutely, ultimately uncovered, had not even a minor defence. And through this openness the intrusion came sharp as a vibro-blade against tender skin. Unexpected as a lightning. Obi-Wan inhaled in short fitful gasps in a desperate attempt to gather some of this viscous air into burning lungs lest he suffocate. Air felt like hot emery against his throat.  
  
The alien presence cut deeper into his brain, eliciting bursts of pain, which was not physical but no less real for that. He gasped again, frenziedly digging his fingers into something beneath him, breaking nails and tearing flesh to blood. He was barely restraining himself from fighting with all his power – however scarce it might be – mentally and physically.

He should not! He should let it happen. He – needed – the – shields. Whatever it takes to build them.  
  
Abruptly all sensations of body disappeared, awareness focussed in an efflux of the burning pain. There was nothing in the entire universe apart from pain.  
  
There had never been.  
  
There would never be.  
  
Time stopped its endless run to hang him in the void of suffering.   
  
He was but a writhing bacteria with no sense or mind. There were no thoughts left in him, only primitive, basic feelings. Howling pain. Mindless aggression.

Then abruptly it all ended, leaving him in grey mist. Slowly, gradually returned the sense of body, although somewhat hazy, dulled… misplaced. He was floating in milk, he decided blurrily. Or could it be cotton?  
  
A low rumbling but comforting sound reached his ears, stubbornly crept into consciousness. It was lulling and demanding attention at the same time, insistent. With an effort Obi-Wan cracked one eye open. Swarming dots and obscure spots filled his vision, and he closed the eye again, fighting dizziness.  
  
"You're awake – finally."  
  
He now recognized the voice. "Qui-Gon." He coughed.  
  
"You even talk! Now, that's a miracle. And here I thought I was going to have to drag you to the healers." The tone was forcibly light. Still, an undercurrent of strain was obvious, speaking volumes to Obi-Wan.

"Am I not the one supposed to possess that kind of humour?" Obi-Wan asked sarcastically, licking dry lips.  
  
He blinked, and the Master's face eventually swam into focus. It was a happy face. And was it a shimmer of hope in those crystal-blue eyes? Hope for what? Obi-Wan propelled himself up on his elbows.  
  
"Well, seeing that you were out, I assumed the duty." Qui-Gon smiled into his moustache.  
  
The younger man snorted and attempted to sit up. He managed to do so only with Qui-Gon's help.  
  
"So, now I demand you return my duty, since I'm not 'out' anymore. I think." The last two words came out unbidden, unpredicted. They reminded of so much… Obi-Wan laughed at them, noting from the corner of his eye that Qui-Gon didn't share his amusement. No surprise, he couldn't have gotten used to Anakin saying them all the time like Obi-Wan had. Still, the younger man could not stop. It was too funny he had said those exact words. His laughter escalated, assuming hysterical notches. Qui-Gon's face darkened. Abruptly Obi-Wan chocked on his laugh and fell silent, wiping moisture from his eyes.

"Sorry."

"You should rest," said Qui-Gon simply.

"Yes, you're right. But before that I need to talk to you. Concerning Anakin. You are going to train him, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I will do my best to persuade the Council, and if they don't agree, I will quit the Order to train Anakin on my own. He must be trained." Qui-Gon replied with the force of conviction behind his words.

"You will be a good Master for him. Probably the best," said Obi-Wan, earning a surprised glance. _And certainly much better than I could ever be._

"You've changed your mind about him." It wasn't a question. Qui-Gon was as apt in catching the tiniest nuances of the younger man's intonation as ever.

"I had much time to think." Obi-Wan turned a wistful gaze outside the viewport, as though seeing the endless vastness of Tatooine desert shadowing stars.

"And you don't think he's dangerous anymore."

"No, _he_ is not." Obi-Wan thought he glimpsed a tiny smile of triumph on the reflection of the other man's face, but it was gone almost before it appeared. "It is the power he harbours that is dangerous."

"All the more it is the Jedi duty to teach him control of it. Besides, we cannot send him away now that we have discovered him. The wheels have turned, and it is not in our power to stop them."

 "You should explain it to Yoda. The Council will most likely agree with you. After all, they did allow _me_ to train Anakin, why shouldn't they give their permission to you? But Yoda will argue."

Qui-Gon's eyes became splints as he regarded his former Padawan. "You have issues with him?"

Obi-Wan's gaze stayed fixed somewhere in the infinity of space. He seemed to be oblivious to Qui-Gon's intense stare.

"No, not as much as an 'issue'. I respect him and his wisdom and his age. But I had an opportunity – which I treasure and despise at the same time – to look at his methods, embodied in the Order, from an extensively different point of view. There are many discrepancies in the Order, many things that need changes. Yet those changes Yoda would never allow."

"Which would be?"

"Humanity. For instance, why are you considered a rogue? Because you have more humanity than most."

Qui-Gon had to fight a rising chill at the pit of his stomach as the feeling that he was talking to a complete stranger settled in. Where was his Padawan – the one who always insisted on following the rules, the one who kept his wayward Master from executing the wildest of his escapades? Who was this young man, talking things Obi-Wan would rather die than say?

"And by humanity you imply emotions, attachments? All those 'paths' to the Darkside?"

Obi-Wan exploded. "Darkside?! Oh, yes. Desire for freedom leads to the Darkside. So let's take away freedom! Emotions lead to the Darkside, so let's purge them! Let's become droids: unfeeling, emotionless, with no desires, obedient." As abruptly as it came, his anger evaporated. Obi-Wan turned away, "I'm sorry."

"What we need is balance," Qui-Gon said quietly, soothingly yet firmly.

Involuntarily Obi-Wan's thoughts jumped to Anakin and the prophecy of the Chosen One. "Balance, eh? The balance Force implies might turn out way too different from the balance Jedi crave."

A sudden, sharp like a stab of a needle thought brought him upright and tense. Eyes flashed at Qui-Gon.  
  
"You must not take Anakin."  
  
"Excuse me?" Qui-Gon's brows flew up in bafflement at the abruptness and inconsistency of Obi-Wan's statement.   
  
"You must not become Anakin's Master," Obi-Wan repeated stubbornly, but his eyes were already clouded with thought. He was calculating, gauging. What if he was wrong? Could he be wrong?   
  
"Would you, please, explain yourself?" Qui-Gon was worried once again. And now, with the shields unwaveringly protecting Obi-Wan's mind – the shields he, Qui-Gon, had build with his own hands, so to say – he could no longer take even a barest glimpse at what was going on in that ginger-haired head.  
  
"I can't. Not now. I need to think it all over. There are possibilities…" Obi-Wan paused, then murmured just above a whisper, "And it would have been much easier to look through them had I still had the Force."

Qui-Gon shook his head trying his best to eliminate the thought of bringing Obi-Wan in for a mind-healer examination. Obi-Wan stood and turned to leave.  
  
"Wait..." Qui-Gon called out. The younger man lingered at the door, turning a bit. Looking at his profile the Master thought that he would never be able to keep this young man – the former child – close. Obi-Wan was walking away, away from this room and from Qui-Gon's life. He could feel it. "You can tell me," he continued as if to justify his call. Obi-Wan hung his head. "When you are ready," Qui-Gon added, feel as though something of incredible importance was slipping past him, and he was blind to see it.


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you to everyone for your wonderful reviews. I appreciate them greatly. Niow let us return to the story. :)

oooOoooOooo

"The Sith. Always two there are – a Master and an Apprentice," Yoda had said.

Mace Windu sat in his seat in the Jedi Council chamber deep in thought. Word had come that Qui-Gon and his padawan had succeeded in destroying the Sith whom they had first met on Tatooine. Which one it was: the Master of the Apprentice? Mace sighed. Meditation had revealed nothing on the matter. He only saw that this was a pivotal point incredibly important to the future of the whole galaxy. Yet what role exactly it would play remained undiscovered.

_Well, patience_ is _a virtue of a true Jedi_, Mace told himself.

His thoughts unintentionally turned to the yesterday's talk with Mast— no, Count Dooku.

_It's been almost a year, and I still can't get used to not call him Master. I suppose, it's always hard to lose your friend, especially if he no longer accepts that to which you had devoted your whole life. At least, I hope he feels better where he is now._

A soft swoosh of doors snapped Mace out of his reverie, and he raised his head in time to see Adi Gallia slip into the room. She inclined her head in a slightly apologetical bow and took her seat.

Now that everyone was present Jinn and his apprentice were called in. They came in, and Mace frowned ever so lightly. Why did Qui-Gon bring the boy – Skywalker – here? Weren't they clear that Skywalker is not to be trained?

_This is Qui-Gon Jinn for you – ever the rouge, ever doing 'what Force tells him to'._

The boy was gripping the edge of Qui-Gon's cloak, casting cautious, guarded looks around the Chamber. Mace couldn't blame him.

Kenobi was walking on the Master's other side. Mace sized him up. Something was out of place, something was very wrong here. On the outside he looked… 'Odd' was the only word Mace had managed to find. Yes, odd indeed.

Then Mace looked at the three of them in the Force – and barely kept from flinching.

The two youngsters flanking Qui-Gon were shatterpoints as strong as Mace had ever seen. No, he amended, stronger than he had ever seen. And the three of them were tied to each other with fault lines. Powerful and tangled were those lines. Many possibilities.

Mace glanced at Yoda and met the half-lidded gaze of green eyes. The ancient Master nodded, then his ears drooped sadly.

_What do you see, Yoda?_ Mace silently inquired, knowing that Yoda would get the question, though not in words.

Big green eyes lifted to look him straight in the eye, and next moment a picture came up before Mace's mind's eye. The picture was different from what Mace himself had seen. The trio now coming to the center of the Chamber's floor design glowed softly in the Force. The strong green glow of Qui-Gon.

_Much like his lightsaber_, Mace found himself thinking.

Down next to him hovered an incredibly bright presence of Skywalker. Once again Mace wondered at how strong the Force was with him. Then his inner gaze turned to Kenobi – and Mace had to suppress a shiver: there was bleak grayness in place of the young man. Yoda had showed him such grayness before, this was how he viewed presences of non-Force-sensitives.

But…

Mace chased away the picture and turned incredulous eyes to Yoda. The Master responded with a curt nod. Windu's gaze returned to Qui-Gon's deceptively serene face. That serenity had to be deceptive, if he knew that something was wrong with his padawan. And there was no was he didn't know.

The three took their places in the center of the room. Qui-Gon put his hand on Anakin's shoulder with a protective gesture. The touch seemed to immediately calm the boy. Kenobi stopped a pace away from those two. He looked guarded and ready for… battle.

Mace quirked an eyebrow and touched his mind in the Force to try and learn something from the young man's unguarded thoughts that were always lurking on the surface. Well, were supposed to. Instead Windu's probe came up against a wall of heavy shielding.

_This is getting more interesting with every moment_, Mace thought.

Then Qui-Gon started to speak.

oooOoooOooo

Qui-Gon started to talk. Obi-Wan paid his words only marginal attention, instead he watched the councilors. He had long ago learned to read them, to notice those tiny, almost imperceptible indications at their true reactions. And now he didn't need the Force to know what their overall opinion was. They were worried about the emergence of the Sith. They wondered why had Naboo been chosen for attack. Few disapproving glances were cast in Anakin's direction when Qui-Gon mentioned him flying out of the hanger and into the battle in space.

_He didn't mention that Anakin had virtually violated his order_, Obi-Wan noted. _Good._

Then the hard part came. Some of the councilors leaned forward eagerly, like children listening to a fairy tale, when Qui-Gon started to describe Darth Maul. Obi-Wan quietly sighed: it all seemed so faraway, so small compared to the years that followed. Piercing gaze of yellowish-green eyes, wizened with age, landed on him, almost burning through his skin. Obi-Wan pretended he was simply uncomfortable in the presence of the Council. If Yoda bought that there was no way to know.

When Qui-Gon told them about Obi-Wan walking through the force-field every single pair of eyes turned to the younger man in the center of the room. They were all amazed. Some were calculating something, others frowned in disbelief.

Qui-Gon finished his part and cast a glance at his padawan, making sure the other handled it well. Obi-Wan nodded at him.

"And how exactly did young Obi-Wan do such a thing?" Mace asked, his voice cool, but betraying his curiosity.

"I believe Obi-Wan has a bigger story to tell," Qui-Gon answered for his apprentice.

"Then, Master Qui-Gon, you and your ward wait somewhere else can," Yoda half suggested, half ordered. He accompanied his words with a small tap of his stick on the floor.

"What about Anakin?" Qui-Gon wasn't quite finished yet. "Will he be taught?"

Obi-Wan barely managed to hide a small roguish smile tugging at his lips: that's Qui-Gon Jinn for you.

"This Council will discuss his fate later."

So in love with formalities, are you, Mace? 

Qui-Gon made a brisk bow and left, tugging Anakin along. For a moment he laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, landing support. Then Kenobi was left alone before the Council.

He retold his story and fell silent, waiting for the reaction. Blue-gray eyes darted from one familiar face to another. The Jedi Council members were exchanging silent opinions about to pronounce their collective sentence. The young man before them stood perfectly still, only his eyes lived searching, waiting, reading them.

And thus he knew their decision before it was voiced. They didn't believe him. Not a single word of his story. And on some level he knew why: they were afraid to believe, they were afraid to let such knowledge intrude into their settled lives.

He hung his head.

_They will find this to be true. They will understand. Eventually. Only then it would be too late._

Master Windu was saying something, Obi-Wan did not listen. He raised his head slightly and met Yoda's gaze. Searched the green eyes. There was compassion there. And his look resembled that of a kind parent watching an ailing child.

Yoda did not believe him either.

So this was the lost cause. They would not accept this truth unless they get some proof – any proof. But where could he get one? Go to Palpatine, bring him before the Council and make him confess? Obi-Wan almost laughed. Easier to make heat-loving Alderaanian sun-birds live on Hoth.

Probably everything would've been different were they able to probe him, but it was not an option now. If they broke the heavy shielding Qui-Gon had instilled into his mind, it would simply crash Obi-Wan to death. It wouldn't have stopped them, he knew, if there were a single chance of getting verification he spoke the truth. They would not stop before sacrificing more than one Jedi's life to save millions of beings – no matter if said Jedi is a comrade, a friend. They would sacrifice their own lives as well as those of their closest friends. This was the way of the Jedi of the Old Republic.

This time, though, probing was out of question. If they tried they would kill him, gaining nothing…

"Padawan Kenobi!"

Whoops, as Anakin would say.

"Yes, Master." _Now, what have I missed?_

Mace Windu looked at him oddly before continuing.

"On account of your… problem you are relieved of active duty. You are to visit mind-healers for assessment. Perhaps they will be able to help--"

"I don't think so. I am leaving."

The room fell silent.

_Fool!_ Obi-Wan berated himself. _Spent too much time in the desert, have you?_ "I'm sorry, Master. It was not appropriate for me to speak. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Suddenly he realized just why Qui-Gon so disliked the Council Chamber – the stuffiness, the air of overwhelming authority, carefully nurtured to make those standing in the center feel small and insignificant under the scrutiny of these powerful beings. Surrounded by them, dominated by them. They sat high in their ivory tower feeling almighty. What a delusion! Obi-Wan felt a bitter taste rise in his mouth. He had once been one of them…

"Leave the Temple you wish?" quietly inquired Yaddle.

"Yes, Master." He turned slightly to look at her. She regarded him with something akin to gentle curiosity.

"Is this your final decision?" Mace demanded.

"Yes, it is. I renounce my place in the Jedi Order."

"Very well then. Hand over your lightsaber."

Windu clearly expected Obi-Wan to hand the lightsaber over to him. He looked somewhat disappointed when Kenobi kneeled before Yoda instead. Held out his weapon. A little green clawed hand reached out and took it away from him.

"Save it for you I will." It was spoken so softly that Obi-Wan barely registered the words.

"Thank you."

_Did he believe, after all?_

"May the Force be with you." It was Mace again. Sounding rather coldly. No matter now.

Obi-Wan bowed deeply. Turned. Walked to the door.

He heard someone whisper behind him: "The twenty-first lost."

Huge doors – so familiar – swung open. Several more unfaltering steps. The doors swung shut behind him, cutting him off from the Council – of which he had once been a member – and from the only chance to remain a Jedi. Curiously, he had no desire to return there.

The Obi-Wan they saw would have deemed it unthinkable to be anything other than a Jedi. The Obi-Wan now walking this place no longer thought he needed to be a part of this Order.


	12. Chapter 12

When Obi-Wan emerged from the Council Chamber Qui-Gon stepped out of the shadows he'd been waiting in. The Council assistant threw him a scowling glance from her desk. He replied her with a conspiratory smile and a wink. Obviously despite herself she smiled in return. 

"Irresistible to the women, aren't you, Master? Just as I remember." The younger man smiled.

"Didn't think you would remember such things about your old Master," chuckled Qui-Gon putting a hand onto Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Well, I do."

"How did your meeting with the Council go?" 

Obi-Wan's smile faded, and he shook his head.

"Not as I hoped, rather the way I thought it would. They did not believe a single word. Even Yoda. Somehow I hoped they would have more trust in me. Perhaps, I deceived myself remembering them from the time I was on the Council."

"Were the sessions as boring as I think them to be?"

"Sometimes. Though there were more squabbles than anything else. And they tried to forbid me sitting with my legs crossed."

"Tried?" There was a twinkle of laughter in Qui-Gon's eyes. "Unsuccessfully, I take it."

"More or less. Your school, by the way." 

The two Jedi reached the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Artificial sun, muted to match the evening outside the Temple walls, basked the two men in its warm light. Gravel rustled under their feet as they moved with trained grace along a path. Fresh scent of greenery and blooms washed over them, and Obi-Wan paused to breathe it in.

"I almost forgot..." he whispered reverently. He walked to the nearest tree and brushed his fingertips over the leaves, the branches. "There's so much life here." 

"Do you feel..."

"The Force in here? No, I don't. But I still can feel their energy, I can tell that they're alive, not dead."

If he expected Qui-Gon to tell him that his sense of the Force will probably return, he was wrong. The moment hung suspended in its awkwardness until a call broke it like an arrow breaking fine glass.

"Obi!"

Kenobi froze. His fingers squeezed a leaf. Steeling himself he abruptly turned. Lips parted in an uncertain but happy smile.

"Bant." 

The young Mon Calamari launched herself at him. She smelled of water and sault. Cool arms hugged him.

"Obi, you're back!" She finally distanced herself slightly to look at his face. Frowned. "Something's happened? You look different." 

"Yes, something has happened."

"Tell me all of it."

He smiled. "I will."

"Ahem," Qui-Gon broke in. "Obi-Wan, I'm expecting you at our quarters when you're done."

And with that said the Jedi disappeared around the nearest bush, leaving two friends to each other. As he went he thanked the Force for Bant to have come their way. He might be the Master, the substitute father, but the closest friend had infinitely more chances to heal Obi-Wan's soul wounds. 

"Come," Bant tugged her friend by the sleeve, pulling him to a pond nearby. They sat on the grass and leaned against a large boulder. Obi-Wan watched small fish darting under water, glinting in light. Bant studied him.

"You _are_ different," she finally said.

"Yes, I am." He continued to stare at the fish. She ruffled the hair at the back of his neck.

"Tell me."

He did. She listened quietly, never once interrupting. When he fell silent she wordlessly rubbed his back.

"I am leaving tomorrow."

"What are you going to do now? Find proof for the Council?"

"I don't think so. I doubt there is any use to waste time and effort to make them believe. I will see what I can do myself."

"But..." Her silver eyes grew concerned. "Didn't you just say even Yoda couldn't defeat Darth Sidious?"

"You are well aware that there are ways of blunt force and then there are other, more covert ways. I am not going to barge in and challenge him. We'll see if I can outsmart him." He smiled, and it was not a smile familiar to Bant. It looked oddly out of place.

"That doesn't suit you. Please, don't smile like that."

Obi-Wan stood, made two steps to the pond and kneeled on the very edge. He leaned forward, looking into water. For a moment he studied the reflection.

"I forgot I ever looked so wide-eyed, so youthful. You're right, that smile doesn't suit this face." He turned to Bant, giving her a genuine smile of affection. "Better?" 

"Much," she laughed and scurried to sit next to him, dipping her legs into the water.

He bared his feet, rolled up his pants and lowered his feet into the pond as well. They started to splash the water with their feet, frightening the fish away. Laughter rang over the pond.

"I can splash farther."

"No, you can't."

Suddenly Obi-Wan started then stiffened. He held the end of his waist-long braid in his hand, looking at it in wonder. Bant's face darkened. Obi-Wan brushed his fingers over the plaited hair, then turned to his friend and unexpectedly gave her a boyish grin.

"My memory seems to be awfully off these days."

"It seems to give you many pleasant surprises," Bant playfully added.

"Is that Count Dooku over there?" Obi-Wan asked Bant as they quietly walked through the Gardens.

The girl looked where he pointed and nodded. "Yes, Master Dooku has returned from his mission. You want me to introduce you to him?"

"Huh? Oh, no, no, thank you. I don't think that is needed." Obi-Wan suddenly looked grim.

"What's wrong? Obi?"

"It's nothing. Just thinking about some possibilities."

Dooku disappeared behind the trees, and Obi-Wan turned to look at worried Bant. He gave her a flick on the nose.

"Don't be upset, little sister. Everything's going to be all right."

"Up until you get yourself into some trouble over your head."

"You think I'm that rash?"

"Yes. You were and always will be." _Your accepting that deal and coming here is the best proof of that_, Bant thought but never voiced the idea. He smiled that wide boyish smile of his, and she smiled too, unable to resist. "This didn't change either," she laughed.

All too soon they parted warmly, and Obi-Wan came to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon. Fond memories warred with sharp pain creating a turmoil reflected only in Kenobi's eyes. Fingers automatically punched in the code for the door before he could even think of remembering it. Inside the apartment Qui-Gon greeted him from the sofa where he was reading. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed in the air of his childhood and youth. Made several steps, letting himself to stay lost in memories for just a minute. Then he forced himself to return to reality.

"Where's Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, taking his boots off and walking to the small kitchen. 

"I left him to the care of crèche masters. Best I could think of. You hungry, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan's fingers tensed momentarily around the fridge handle at the way Qui-Gon addressed him but quickly relaxed. He slid his hand over the handle, refreshing the memory, then turned to the Master.

"I wouldn't mind some food, actually."

Light meal, pleasant company - what could be better? At the moment, Obi-Wan decided, nothing.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Qui-Gon suddenly asked. "Coruscant's life isn't easy."

"I must." Obi-Wan looked at the older man. "Qui-Gon, I am not only a Jedi  
Master, I am also a former general and former fugitive. I will survive."

"You're still my Obi-Wan." It was obvious that those words didn't come easily. 

Obi-Wan only shook his head with a small smile with just a tinge of  
bitterness to it. His eyes strayed to the window, watching threads of air cars weaving through the darkened night sky. Pale moon painted silver the rooftops of the highest buildings. Lower artificial light sparkled. Life never stopped.

"Please, teach Anakin well so that we have a future better than what I have witnessed." So softly spoken it could have been a thought. But Qui-Gon picked on it nevertheless.

"So, you've changed your mind about this?" The Master leaned back folding his arms over his chest.

"Erm... I considered the options. Maybe... Maybe the prophecy can be reverted."

"The prophecy?"

"On Kashyyyk Yoda found a part of the prophecy about the Chosen One  
that we never knew of before. It said..." Obi-Wan appeared to be in thought for a moment, recalling the prophecy. "In twilight times a Chosen One will come, conceived by the Force itself. Bring balance to the Force he will. First destroy he will the light in himself and the path he walked to it. Then destroy he will the darkness in himself and the path he walked to it. And thus balance will come."

Silence. Qui-Gon's eyes grew distant as he sat, lost in thought. Obi-Wan watched him.

"The first part has already taken place: the Order was destroyed, and later I let Anakin kill me. Now, maybe, we can do something, change something. And destruction wouldn't be needed anymore."


End file.
